Building Neutron Stars: The JohnRodney Arc
by Itar94
Summary: Alpha/Beta/Omega AU. It's always been difficult, letting go of control. Even when in a galaxy far, far away, surrounded by life-sucking aliens, John hesitates. (All he has ever wanted to do is fly.) Meanwhile, Rodney struggles to figure out the puzzle that makes up Major John Sheppard. (All he has ever wanted is to be acknowledged for being something more.)
1. Flying a Ship With Silver Lining: 1

_**Author's note**: This story contains ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA dynamics. It is AU and has SLASH and there are mentions of violence and character death, and angst. Un the future there will also be mpreg. If any of this is not your cup of tea, please press the back button now. _

_This fic creates a__ 'verse,_ Building Neutron Stars,_ wherein Rodney McKay is both a brilliant scientist and an alpha, and John Sheppard is a reckless flyboy and omega. They struggle to overcome prejudices and each other, at the same time as they explore Pegasus and fight against Wraith. (Many more characters are involved than I am able to list or tag here.)_

_So, this is an AU, even if themes and episodes from the series are recognizable. If you aren't familiar with Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics I suggest looking it up at Fanlore, though much in this 'verse is explained along the way. As always, I'm taking loads of liberties when writing and this fic is no exception. There is some angst but I don't think any trigger warnings are necessary, albeit some sensitive readers could be disturbed. This story involves a main omega character abusing/overusing (fictional) medical substances._

_Originally I posted this at AO3 - you find all of this there under the same penname (check my profile for links!) - where each story in the 'verse was split and tied together through the site's series-function. Since this site lacks that ability, here I've chosen to post the 'verse **according to pairing **and each story set to that pairing will then follow chronologically. This is the **John/Rodney Arc.**_

_The order of the series in the John/Rodney Arc is as follows: _

_I. Flying a Ship With Silver Lining [4 chapters long - starts at chapter 1 - complete]  
II. Calculating Curves No One Can Read [7 chapters - starts at chapter 5]  
III. Longing For the Stars to End [5 chapters - starts at chapter 13]  
IV. Following These Frayed Threads (Leading Somewhere) [7 chapters - starts at chapter 21]  
V. Discovering Fear (And Other Astronomical Data)_

_As more stories get posted and completed, this list will grow. __Other pairings in this 'verse will be revealed in time and then also the issues of chronology will be explained as more Arcs are posted._

* * *

**Building Neutron Stars:  
The John/Rodney Arc  
**

**I.  
****Flying a Ship With Silver Lining**

* * *

_**Fly **_/flaɪ/  
_[verb]_  
_to travel through the air;  
be airborne; soar_  
_use wings; be free _

* * *

**Chapter One**

In many ways, life is a bitch.

John can in all honestly say he knew this.

It's just the way things are, he supposes, being the hotheaded, far-too-determined omega nobody really knows (people would turn eyes on him, wondering, seeking his smile, but he rarely gave away anything). Having practically lived on suppressants for the last fifteen years … helped. Sort of.

Deathly uncomfortable, perhaps, and painful and inconvenient from several sets of perspectives, but he can't just walk around broadcasting the fact that, _yes,_ _I'm an omega, so what? _in the world of stuck-up, powerful alphas and a couple of betas which make up the Air force (and any kind of military alongside it). Going into heat while in training or in the middle of an op really isn't an option.

Between the choice of flying or being shipped off to be bonded to someone anonymous with more interest in his ass than his person, it wasn't a difficult one to make.

His days at the Academy hadn't been too bad. A bit lonesome maybe but that he expected, in fact welcomed. The pills helped making people think that he's just an ordinary nondescript beta and effectively kept the alphas at bay – at a passable bay, at least, because he still got looked over and commented on for his good looks but that was it, no heat pheromones shaking off of him, no one pinning him down.

On the other hand it was totally okay for a beta to be odd and a bit geeky and not as outright macho as the alphas. Nobody believed he was that good at maths or physics or _thinking_ or anything really (except flying) until he was ordered to stand up and prove it, and John had nearly lost it then, not knowing whether to smirk and glow with pride at the fact that he finally was noticed even if it was just over an equation that he could solve with his knee-cap (in his sleep) or, if he should back down and refuse when realizing that he was standing in a room full of wide-eyed alphas, alone and unguarded and for the moment he wasn't wearing a sidearm.

But no one figured it out then. And no one figures it out now either.

It's somewhat of a shock to rise in the ranks to a Major – unheard of; an _omega_, a fucking _Major_ (with a PhD that he tells few people about because it's easier to slip by when they think he's just another flyboy) – but inside he's shaking and he can't sleep when remembering Afghanistan and the curling smoke and the cries of dying men.

* * *

Antarctica is meant to be punishment but it's a gust of fresh air and the cold, pale landscape is soothing to his soul. To soar above it is more calming than any medication.

Flying is being free. All he has ever wanted to do is fly.

* * *

The doctor – an omega, John senses, one not going on any medications or anything even if he's standing in an underground military base (might be because it's also filled with betas and scientists) – is going on and on about alien genes and transportation through the universe through wormholes when a hum tingles down John's spine, urging him near the weird chair sitting on a pedestal and the doctor lunges out too late to stop him.

The hum intensifies – is it this ATA-gene thingy that the doc was on about, making him attuned with this ancient tech or is it something else? – and the Scottish doctor rushes out of the room. He's back a minute later, a group of people in tow which John's never met except the general whom he escorted here earlier, and the sharp scent of an aggravated alpha attacks his nostrils. He barely hears General O'Neill berating him for disobeying orders (again).

"Major," says a voice; he glances slightly down and there's an alpha in a bright orange fleece standing near his feet, and his pulse picks up at the closeness and this strange tugging somewhere in his chest. "Imagine where we are in the solar system."

Then a galaxy forms above his head in blue and white lights, swirling and alive, and John wonders if he's dreaming or just going crazy.

* * *

He packs lightly, taking only the necessary things. A Johnny Cash poster and a well-thumbed copy of _War and Peace_ (he's going to finish it, one day, really, he is) and, hidden away where no one can find them, a stash of suppressant pills to last for at least a year (if he's careful). It's not a lot, but enough to get by, for now, and he has survived before. Having done this for year after year he knows how to slip it with him so that nobody notices – quantity is not an option.

It's not going to be enough. If it is one-way and Earth will be a shadow behind them that they cannot reach, it definitely won't be enough. But it'll have to do.

(And in another galaxy, maybe, someday, he hopes, he won't have the need to hide anymore. In Pegasus, maybe, someday, it won't matter that he's omega and still not mated, tied down. John has always feared being tied down.)

* * *

The Stargate is grand and breath-taking and startlingly simple. John hesitates to believe Lieutenant Ford's admissions of it hurting to pass through the event horizon.

The unsteady blue dissolves as he steps through, and the world beyond is dark, until he takes a few steps in with that humming – just like with the chair back on Antarctica – at the back of his head. The city comes to life in lights and sounds. Dr Rodney McKay is half a step beside him and the scientist eagerly pushes past him following Dr Weir, their shoulders brushing ever-so-briefly and John halts sharply at the touch. Nobody notices, too occupied in exploring this new world – and, fuck, he's in another _galaxy_.

* * *

The city is underwater and they're running out of power already.

Figures.

"There's no way to open a wormhole back to Earth," Dr (Dr) Exasperating Know-It-All says sharply to Colonel Sumner, who isn't too fond of Sheppard (the feeling's mutual) and spent the last half hour barking orders at his men.

"What about somewhere in _this_ galaxy?" John suggests and calmly raises an eyebrow, meeting the startled, incredulous look McKay sends his way head-on. Has the man never been confronted with a thinking military man before?

Or maybe it's just another of McKay's traits, John figures, recalling seeing the alpha rushing about in the base in Colorado just before leaving Earth; the man had been fiddling with his laptop, running a dozen equations all at once and never giving it a moment's rest, yelling at the other scientists in loud arguments, shouting at the lieutenants who knew no better than to cow beneath the heated gaze and generally bothering all and any other personnel available. John had given him a wide berth. But there was something, though. Like a tug at the bottom of his gut every time the man came into view. Almost like -

Not ready yet to face the implications, John turns to look at the screens filling up with data – shield collapse imminent, twenty-eight per cent of power left and dropping exponentially, radio static flickering in the background _– _instead of the man's face, as McKay thoughtfully nods.

"That's relatively easy. We've already been able to access part of the city's database and found some gate-addresses in storage."

Weir nods, voice stern, without hesitation but John finds it difficult to miss the flashing in her eyes. She doesn't want to evacuate. Not now. Not yet. It's too soon, they've only just _arrived _and already the dream is slipping away.

"Do it."

* * *

"We do not trade with strangers."

The woman – Teyla Emmagan – is tall and soft-looking, but John is pretty sure it's a mask, one that could easily fool those without a sharper mind (those without their own secrets); there's the underlying scent of an alpha, heady and firm, surrounding her albeit mixed with that of smoke and food cooked over fire in the tent. The villagers are tense and silent as they regard the earthlings and John doesn't blame them. After all, how else could they react, but with distrust and suspicion, when a group of armed strangers appear in the middle of night?

They had stepped out of the gate expecting anything and yet been so unprepared, and John had been startled to find two children – alien, but human all the same – within aim of his P90. Then, a man had burst through the trees, pleading them not to shoot.

Colonel Sumner glares at him when he attempts to speak with the woman (honestly what's the harm of mentioning Ferris Wheels? He's just trying to break the ice), shooting the people his trademark grin, and John has to back down eventually alongside Ford. They leave the tent so that the colonel may sit down with the village's leader and discuss a treaty. Outside the tent it's cool and dark; he guesses it's somewhere half-way through the night albeit John has no idea how long the days are on this planet.

The younger man's jittery beneath the cool exterior, an anxiousness contradicting the arrogant certainty of his status as alpha rolling off him in waves. "I'm sure the colonel will, you know, break the ice with these people."

"Yeah, sure," John says (not as certain that Sumner's attitude will be as welcome to the natives), glancing around. Now aware of their presence, the villagers have risen from their rest, tents lighting up from within, warm yellow glows from candles.

It's starting to sink in now, that they're in another galaxy on an unknown planet and millions of lightyears from home and they might never get back. He's stuck here, surrounded by _aliens_ and military who glare at him (_just another stupid beta who cannot follow orders, that one with the black mark) _and a scientist in particular with an incredibly sharp, quick tongue.

And they're _aliens_, these people, even if they have human faces and human hands and – if they ever got a chance to medically test them – probably human DNA.

Atlantis was void of life when they arrived, but it somehow had felt more right to step into the city than it had felt to enter any home he'd ever lived in, any base he'd ever operated on.

They had woken the city only to break it – the shield collapsing slowly inwards, flooding pier after pier - and John wonders what the hell they should do if they really have to leave this place (though path of he knows it's more of a question of _when_, not _if_), where they'd go. For now, the only choice is this planet – whatever it was called – and its unfamiliar people, and they could only hope they will take pity and stretch out their hands willing to give aid.

* * *

Morning nearing, Teyla tells him about the Wraith, the great enemy (John briefly recalls the hologram Doctor Beckett lit up using his gene), and she speaks of cullings and human herds. John nods and replies calmly, but inside he might be freaking out because she's basically stating there are life-sucking alien _vampires_ out there and they return every few hundred years or so to take their share. And these people have lived under their oppression of millennia, ever since the ancients packed up and left ten thousand years ago.

Teyla seems taken aback when she realizes that their world has never been culled, that it knows nothing of the Wraith and John vaguely lets it slip that he didn't even know that there was anything like Stargates until a couple of weeks ago.

"And you are certain you cannot return home?"

_Home_. Earth is home, he supposes, but he's never really got the feeling.

He nods, shrugging. "We haven't got the power."

Sumner has already ordered Ford and a couple of the men back to the gate and they will return to Atlantis soon, empty-handed save for the news that there is a powerful, probably technologically advanced enemy out there somewhere set to kill all humans.

"Not all," Teyla says softly when John voices the thought and she looks away for a moment, face darkened. "They always leave a certain number to reproduce. They cannot survive without food."

John shivers.

"We believe," she goes on, "that is why some are given gifts, so that we may mate and bear offspring to carry on the next generation."

So that's why she smells like alpha, why he's spotted several couples emitting the clear scent of _mating_ and _lover_ in the main tent. Seems like humans in Pegasus aren't that different, after all.

(Only here everything is much more dire and dangerous and _real_.)

* * *

By the time the fires have gone out and the smoke settled, fifteen bodies are strewn across the forest floor – villagers and marines and a broken, twisted anomaly which came down with the crashed alien craft – and many are missing, disappeared into the beams of light coming from the ships. People are crying and screaming and there's nothing left but destroyed homes and ruined futures, and John cannot find Teyla nor his commanding officer anywhere.

Ford is the only one with the address to whatever the aliens – the Wraith – took these people.

When they return – the people are hesitant, not wanting to step through the gate at first when realizing that it would transport them to the ancestral city – there's chaos in the gate room. Weir is shouting something. The scientists are rushing to and fro.

Now John ignores all this as he ushers the people inside, heart beating fast with adrenaline and shock – fuck, his men were just taken by freaking_aliens_. He steadies Jinto as the boy quietly asks if they can ever find his father again.

Weir rushes down then to meet them, yelling at them angrily but John meets her head-on, unlike what so many omegas would've done and he becomes aware of McKay approaching as well (hands full of data, eyes filled with purpose) when the city starts trembling.

Atlantis isn't humming anymore in his head, it's singing, as it breaks up through the ocean and into the sunlight. The shield no longer being under the heavy strain of holding back the water, the power consumption drops at once and McKay's face is full of astonishment and glee as they receive the readings.

They've just received days and weeks, not the mere hours they had before.

In the exhilarating rush of _we're alive, we made it, the city hasn't crumbled down on us,_ John doesn't put any distance between himself and the alpha as McKay joins him by one of the wide windows, an elbow pressed against his side, the man's breaths tickling his neck.

Not until his pulse evens out and he realizes that McKay is staring at the curve of his ear. He takes a step away, flashing his trademark grin at the man, and for the first time he sees not the arrogant smirk but an honest smile of relief and happiness there, aimed at him. Maybe he's an okay guy – if you oversee his petty attitude. Or his _whole_ attitude.

The pills mask his scent, but it's been well over twenty-four hours since John took his last and McKay's eyes narrow after a moment, like in suspicion; John doesn't linger to give him more time to figure it out.

* * *

An hour later he flies the puddlejumper with his _mind_.

The great Wraith ship, that Teyla calls a hive, is eerily still and empty. There are oddly few guards, but John doesn't realize why until later, when the Queen's shrill screams have echoes across the planet and the Wraith begin to wake, one by one, small dots on the life-signs detector (another little piece of ancient tech that he found by just _stretching_ out his mind just so …). When they find the captured villagers and marines, they are huddled in a cell, pale and shaken but all right. Colonel Sumner isn't with them.

By the time John gets there, it's too late, the man a living corpse attached to the Queen's hand. It takes only one well-aimed shot.

Besides being life-sucking aliens, the Wraith are also somehow telepathic. It's like she's thrown a collar around his neck and is pulling him down, forcing him to kneel. She's _furious_. John just barely manages to think _Fuck, Ford's better get here soon! _when she suddenly jerks her hand back, inches from his chest.

She's got a bullet in her head and is still alive. Gunfire rings out from Ford's hand. The grip on him lost, John rolls to the side and grabs the nearest object he can find, one of the aliens' stun weapons and using it like a spear he guts her. That _has_ got to kill her.

"Sir! Sir, we got to get out of here."

Ford rushes up to his side. Wraith are strewn across the room haphazardly and John glances at Sumner's lifeless, unnaturally aged body as the Queen hitches a final breath, a smirk on her lips.

_The others will wake._

* * *

Upon returning, the surviving people of Athos rejoice in reuniting with their friends and family, and Jinto rushes into his father's arms with a whoop; the people of Earth aren't unaffected either, and there is celebrating. They have found what they have sought, the city of Atlantis, and it is tenfold grander than they had imagined – even if there are enemies out there, even if the Wraith have now awoken, even if the military commanding officer now is dead by a bullet John fired. Weir doesn't blame him, but John knows how this'll look in his records – even if he only worries for a while because this is Pegasus and they may never get back to Earth so then he has nothing to be concerned about.

Nothing to be concerned about.

* * *

There's something about McKay that doesn't make sense.

He is ruthlessly tactless with little thought of subtlety, so certain of himself and his theories, and he has an ego big enough to fill the whole of Atlantis and more. He's selfish and greedy and generally the sort of person John wouldn't imagine going on this mission, at first. Here there'll be little chance of gaining fame or winning a Nobel, which he's sure McKay wants – SGC is a secret and they may never return to Earth anyhow. McKay could've stayed there, been a brilliant scientist, found someone to mate with – John has found no evidence yet that the man was mated but maybe there's someone back on Earth – because even if his personality was lacking, he was still an alpha and when in heat an omega would be willing.

(That's what's frightening to think and John fears what'll happen once he runs out of medicines and he is forced into heat. Will he be respected, the alphas keeping their distance, or will the inevitable finally happen …?)

Still, McKay chose to come here, to Pegasus, risking his life merely by stepping through the gate. He doesn't seem like the person to sacrifice for others and this expedition is very much a collective experiment, wherein everyone must think not just about themselves but about others.

McKay looked at him sometimes, with clear blue eyes, like he was ready to devour him and it gave him goose bumps all-over for some reason. People have looked like that at him before; he's not unused to people complimenting his looks, a hand reaching out to clasp his arm, touch his back but he's always shied away.

John doesn't like being touched. Having people stand too close. Other omegas were okay, like Doctor Beckett, and some of the scientists, but he wasn't sure how to act now when surrounded by some many betas. And there are so many alphas as well, not just the marines but some of the civilians, chosen for their brilliant minds and not their bodies.

It's not like they're keeping tabs but over the days, he's figured out at least eight other omegas on the base, both male and female – and they don't hide, because they aren't in the military and don't fear. Nobody raises an eyebrow at omega scientists or doctors; in fact it's perfectly natural and expected. The alpha scientists are a bit more unexpected. Several of them aren't particularly buff or loud or anything else that one directly connects with alpha behaviour.

Maybe, John ponders, it's because he's been around military for so long it's strange not to hear the scientists make those laidback comments about _claiming_ and _taking_ and _breeding_ – words he's never liked, his gut curling in unease, but he's always smirked alongside them nonetheless. (They never talk about _giving_ or _sharing_.)

The scientists don't act like that. Perhaps it is unnecessary for them. They compete amongst themselves in other means, and right now everyone is just busy trying to save the city and everybody in it to care about competition and showing themselves as strong alphas right now.

* * *

There's a dark, shapeless monster on the loose slowly emptying their power generators.

By the time he finds Jinto, Halling's son, huddled in the corner of a storage room, the thing has been loose for several hours. McKay is there too, searching for the boy with him, a datapad resting in the scientist's hands and he's staring at it intently, reading some sort of power output or another. McKay has been riding on some sort of high all since he got his gene therapy and found an ancient personal shield, making him essentially invulnerable since four hours back. Halling's wounded leg stopped him from joining them in the search for the missing boy.

John listens to him with half an ear as suddenly Jinto leaps out of the shadows and into his arms without concern for the weapons John is wearing. "Major Sheppard!"

"Jinto!" Kneeling to be at the boy's level, John takes in his appearance. He looks shaken but unhurt. "You okay, buddy?"

"Hmm," McKay says, approaching some orange device, its shape a vague resemblance to their own naquada generators, sitting on a console in the middle of the room. There's intent written all over his face and John finds his gaze inexplicably drawn to his fast-working hands, pressing buttons at an impressive rate with a weird sort of elegance. Before he can delve more into the matter, John averts his gaze, focusing on Jinto instead. He suspects the boy may be hero worshipping him since he and his team of marines rescued Halling and Teyla and the others from the Wraith.

"This could be some sort of research lab. Not the first we've come across. These consoles generally access the central computer systems, so Jinto could have caused what we thought were malfunctions from here." The scientist pauses and John drags himself up, Jinto's gaze flickering nervously between the two men as McKay looks at the boy sharply. "Look, I need to know _everything_ you touched."

* * *

It takes a while to track down the entity and figure out what to do with it. It's dangerously close to disaster when they do.

Once it's finally gone through the gate, thanks to McKay's spur-of-the-moment decision to wear the shield he'd struggled (and fainted from manly hunger) to get off, everyone exhales as one and they can relax, at least for a moment.

There's still the Wraith and who knows what else out there to worry about, and the majority of the city is still unexplored; anything could be hiding in the long corridors and abandoned rooms, like that energy-sucking entity. But for now, everything is okay, they're alive and well, and John can get a proper night's sleep for the first time in two weeks.

McKay's actions have raised John's opinions of the man some. The man basically saved their asses in a stroke of reckless selflessness. So maybe he isn't that much of a git, after all.

* * *

When Weir tells him to organize a gate team for off-world exploration, insisting on a scientist on it, John decides fairly quickly. Besides being decidedly smart and sharing (some of, at least) his wit, the man has proven himself to be someone they can depend on in dire situations, and he's also the only scientist John really knows. There's this Kavanagh guy whose John's only experience with was when the pony-tailed man made a rude off-hand comment, so, not really an option, and while Dr Zelenka seems an okay guy he's just not made for fieldwork.

McKay is also one of the few alphas that John feels comfortable enough around to jibe and joke with, even if the man sometimes gets a bit too close, stepping into his personal space without boundaries, not seemingly able to read simple social codes like _Please step back you're standing too close to me_.

(Choosing him to be on his team has nothing to do with … with whatever he might be feeling whenever McKay enters his vision.)

He also chooses Ford, because the young man's a good solider and John trusts him to have his back and then Teyla, because she has requested to help them and she's mild-mannered, good at negotiation and talking and at the same time a good fighter (he's seen her work out in the gym once beating the hell out of a marine using a pair of wooden sticks). He can trust her.

Trust is difficult to come by and keep. Trust is, for him, difficult to take to heart and not simply push away but he's a soldier and he's learned to trust comrades in battle, just like he's learned to take aim and pull the trigger.

When facing McKay about the decision, the scientist merely shrugs, busily running a simulation on his computer and he waves a hand nonchalantly in John's direction. The space which the alpha has occupied as his private lab is propped with computers and machinery and the room has already begun picking up McKay's scent. Being in there makes something in John's mind reel.

"Well … okay," McKay says, sounding not too enthusiastic about the prospect of having to start carrying a sidearm; "As long as you guarantee that I won't be shot down or mutilated or die in some other horrible way at once, flyboy and, oh, I _will_ have time for research and _science_, right?"

Which sounds fair enough. You know, when you're stuck in a galaxy far, far away filled with life-sucking aliens and ten thousand year old sunken cities.

* * *

John's body is slowly numbing away. The pain, at first sharp like a knife working its way through his veins, ebbs away and then he realizes he cannot move his legs, cannot lift his arms, barely move his head as it is, as the bug digs into his neck harshly.

They're lodged half-way in the gate with thirty-eight minutes left until the ship will definitely split in two.

_McKay, come on, you can fix this,_ John thinks, a mantra he holds onto as the world begins to blacken around the edges; _I'm counting on you._

As he'd come to after the crashing halt, McKay had kneeled by his side, a hand on his shoulder – the one without the bug resting on it – and having his hand there had been comforting, steadying him. When McKay had removed it to stand and work on a crystal panel, John already missed the warm grip.

The minutes trickle by and, afterwards, his memory is fuzzy of the whole ordeal. He remembers pain, abruptly sharp and he might have screamed, sound ripping out of lungs and then, he'd ordered Ford to use the defibrillator, holding his stare and McKay had looked on disbelievingly, John glaring at him to _Keep working, fix it, McKay!_ and there was a white soaring flash of memory and then –

* * *

He wakes in the infirmary, hours later, a terrible bruise on his neck and his body sore but otherwise unharmed.

McKay had fixed the jumper, retracting the pods just in time and then Ford had saved them all by blowing open the rear hatch, getting the jumper through the gate. Pride swells in John's chest when he hears the report, as they stand around his bed; his team and Weir but most importantly McKay, who's looking at him with such warm intensity like he cannot quite believe he's there and for once John doesn't mind. (He can't quite believe he's there either.)

He's never liked infirmaries or hospitals. Not because of the whiteness, the smell of medicines and the doctors swarming around, too many hands and eyes and ears. But a doctor could always figure it out; a simple blood test would reveal the chemicals from the pills and a full exam could always conclude in his secrets being leaked. And then …

He wonders if Carson knows.

His team isn't looking at him any different now, as they stand around him; Teyla is calm, as always, collected and firm whereas McKay is a bundle of energy. Ford is on another bed, asleep; having been briefly exposed to vacuum isn't good for anyone. As they take their goodbyes and leave him to rest, John is aware of McKay glancing back at him, but no more words are exchanged.

Then, Carson approaches his bedside. "I believe we need to have a word, Major."

John doesn't swear aloud but he does in his head, and he may look calm on the outside but his gut ties itself into knots. _No. Don't let anyone know, please. Don't let them have me degraded, don't let them send me away to be mated –_

"I found traces of heat suppressants in your blood system."

"… Yeah."

"You _are_ aware that they are not originally meant for long-time consumption?"

John winces. He knows. There are warnings on the packets, fierce letters in red, and he knows because he's experienced the pain and nausea of long-term use, when he has forced his heat away for months and years at a time, his cycle wholly disrupted and his body crying in pain.

"Yeah, doc. I know."

The man sighs and shakes his head, muttering something about stubborn military and John weakly cracks a smile. "Look, doc, I just …"

"I know that the military aren't too fond of omegas in their ranks, Major," Carson cuts in, gently, "so I do understand at least some of your reasons to taking them. But from what I concluded from the tests you've been eating suppressants for a dangerously long time, possibly several months. There are side-effects, and your body must be given time to work in its own pace as well. When was the last time you entered and went through a natural heat?"

"Uhm," John looks away, at his hands, suddenly embarrassed because it's been _years_ and it's not normal, he's over thirty years old for god's sake and – "Five years ago, give or take?"

(He'd been on leave for four weeks, back in the States after long months in the unforgiving dry desert. He'd thought it'd be well more than enough, but after locking himself up in his basement for those long awful days, body aching and trembling with need, alone and cold in the dark, he'd felt hollow and empty when letting himself out again. It'd fucking _hurt_ and he hated being so alone but there were no other options and two weeks later, just as he'd begun recovering, he'd been sent back out to the front again, dust on his jacket.)

The startled look on the man's face indicates that this is probably very, very bad. "Lad –"

"Look, doc, I know it's not … _ideal_, but –"

"I'm just saying, major, that you should give your body some rest by allowing it to go through a heat or two. Postponing it for this long can be potentially very harmful."

He can't. Not now. (Then _when_?) "I am not going through heat now, doc. I _can't_."

The doctor sends him a helpless look. But, there's some understanding there too. And when John insists, Carson finally nods and he says, "As long as you're certain, lad."

He isn't, but he has no other choice, he can't face questions right now and definitely not a mating. He's not ready for that, or willing.

"This is confidential, right?"

The man looks for a moment like he doesn't want to agree, but eventually nods jerkily, knotting his hands against his crisp white coat. "It is. Unless you are having suicidal thoughts?"

"What? _No_. No. Nothing like that, doc."

It could be worse.

It could always be worse (he tells himself and holds his breath).

* * *

There's something about John Sheppard that doesn't make sense.

To Dr Rodney McKay, PhD, PhD (most brilliant scientist in one, probably two, galaxies), this is especially frustrating. To not be able to pinpoint or calculate a problem is direr and more nerve-wracking than meeting with alien cultures or avoiding a planet-wide attack and saving millions of lives in the process. No. He'd face any improbable equation before this one.

There's something about Sheppard that just cannot be solved.

The man is laidback and he smiles often to a whole lot of people and Rodney could easily overlook him, except he's hinted that he's actually got a brain between those ridiculously pointy ears and the man is fucking _gorgeous_, even if his hair hasn't seen a comb in years.

Rodney wouldn't mind having him in his bed, no, not at all, but Rodney has never been good at this relationship thing and despite the man being a typical flyboy there's just _something _… something that Rodney doesn't want to ruin with a one-night stand. He wasn't really good at one-night stands either to be honest. He's far too possessive for that. Once he's got his hold on something, he wants to keep it that way, only it's difficult to balance people with science, with time.

Maybe that's why he's never settled down. Never let his heart be captured, as cliché and stupid as that sounds. Oh, fair enough, he's lusted after his fair share of men and women and for a while – which was an awkward time no one is allowed to mention – he had the hots for Samantha Carter, even if they were entirely incompatible (even if she's quite smart). No alpha would be able to stand him. The only upside of an alpha-alpha relationship would be the lack of kids – he's never liked them that much anyway, they're only in the way. There are few children he's tolerated for more than ten minutes before he wants the mout of his sight and hearing range.

Which brings him back to the puzzle of Major John Sheppard. A fairly good pilot but he's got a black mark in Afghanistan (getting a hold on his file wasn't difficult. Rodney read it out of curiosity, nothing more, between working hours back at SGC). Kind of clever, for a military man anyway. Easy on the eyes, with a warm drawling voice and hazel eyes. Not to mention he has the gene – okay, so Rodney's a _bit_ jealous that this man had the strongest naturally occurring gene they've ever come across.

His scent … it's _addled_. Almost non-existent - which is the case of all betas.

It's kind of a pity … because if Sheppard was an omega (even an unruly, rule-breaking, stubborn omega), at least Rodney would have a legible, unquestionable excuse for wanting him.

But now, with Sheppard being beta, why would he ever want to lie down and spread his legs for Rodney? There's no reason. He can't even be sure that Sheppard's gay (even if his hair is a bit too wild for a straight military guy) and even less know if the guy is interested in him in any manner.

* * *

He doesn't want to accuse anyone of being a spy and neither does Weir or nearly anyone on the base.

But McKay was just shot with a Wraith stunner right in the face and the moment he fell, there in the gate room, still and silent onto the floor - John's heart had stopped for a moment.

Then Sargerant Bates, who oozes with confidence born out of the fact that he's alpha and military and has the upper hand, has the guts to accuse_Teyla_ of handing off information to the Wraith and John gets rightfully pissed in addition to worried. Clearly Bates is a blind idiot because Teyla's people were driven from their home planet by the Wraith, her people have been killed by those creatures generation after generation and she's grown up under their shadow. Anyone having met her should have seen the fire in her eyes as she spoke of the Wraith and know that she _never_would betray any other human to them.

* * *

While Rodney recovers – fairly quickly, even if he complains about his numb foot for hours after he's let out of the infirmary – investigations starts and the Athosians are confined to their quarters as they are taken out for questioning, one by one. John feels a little sick thinking about it. These people couldn't – _surely_ …

"This is stupid."

John glances at the scientist who takes another sip of his coffee, eyes fixed on the screen.

He's not sure why he does it, visiting Rodney in his lab now and then, just dropping by. Between missions and meeting in the mess hall, this is where they see each other. At least, despite calling him a flyboy, Rodney tolerates his presence. Plus he probably wants him near to light up ancient things with his gene – and while it's not ideal (nothing is ideal) it is enough for John.

He can't recall the exact moment when he became Rodney instead of McKay.

"Which one, those equations you're looking at or the questioning of the Athosians?"

"Well both. One can _obviously_ see the blatant errors in this theory, at least if you have an IQ higher than a peanut, which _completely_ disregards the existence of –"

John rolls his eyes and smirks and quietly admits that Rodney can be kind of cute.

Well, for an alpha with attitude problems.

"- and anyhow," Rodney's saying as John bites his tongue and returns to the world, heart thundering, "if there were spies in Atlantis why haven't they attacked the city yet? It's illogical, unless of course they're taking their time in coordinating an attack in which case I'd say we're well and very screwed – oh, look, you! Czech guy!"

Rodney clicks his fingers to get the attention of the scientist who just entered the lab, one whom Rodney clearly can never recall the name of but John recognizes him as Dr Radek Zelenka. The man has this nervous look about him, brown hair falling into his eyes as he keeps readjusting his glasses, pushing them further up his nose every fifteen minutes. Another of the omega scientists that no one raises an eyebrow at.

Well, fair enough, all known omegas get checked out by the alphas every now and then, especially when signs come telling that they're nearing heat. It's a distraction for the marines, having all of these omegas on the base, but it keeps their minds off the impending threat of life-sucking aliens for a while. If only they'd stop leering and _staring_. John doesn't know how to tell his men to stop doing that without raising too many eyebrows.

(Maybe had he pursued a scientific career John wouldn't have bothered to hide as he does now. He could have become an engineer or mathematician or whatever, but he could never have gone through with it if it meant never being able to fly.)

"You know who wrote this?" Rodney asks Radek furiously, gesturing at the whiteboard. And all focus is back on the stupid backwards theory again. "This is idiotic! This variable here …"

* * *

John wonders if Teyla's all right, if her people are coping well under the pressure of being accused of being spies in the city that took them in as refuges. Guilt tugs in his belly. If they hadn't come, if they hadn't been caught, if he hadn't killed that Wraith Queen then the others wouldn't have woken and they wouldn't be in this mess.

If they hadn't come through the Stargate, if he hadn't flown to Antarctica and met Rodney –

He bites his tongue again; _don't go there now._

(Don't go there ever.)

* * *

Finally they come to realize that the spy was not a person, or even a sentient being, but an innocent looking necklace that had caught John's gaze as it had gleamed between the sand back on Athos. Unknowingly activated at his touch, for all these weeks the Wraith had become aware of them – of some people out there carrying the Ancient gene.

Again, the guilt comes creeping up on him but at last there's something they can do about it. The trap is set and they don't have to wait long for the Wraith to show up; three drones and another, taller one without a mask. They take down two quickly and then move to capture the third alive, but its self-destruct activates before they can act. John barely manages to yell "Take cover!" and the marines on the oppose side of him turn around.

The ground shakes by the explosion and John and Rodney are thrown back, tumbling down a slight slope until they come to a halt between some jagged rocks – the last remnants of some long ago fallen civilization. John's ears ring from the explosion, dust and adrenaline lingering.

He rolls over onto his back, glancing at the alpha, who's got a small gash on his forehead but otherwise looks fine. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine," Rodney groans, rubbing at his neck, "nothing broken. I think. Gods, what was that? I didn't know Wraith could self-destruct. Ugh, my ears are ringing."

"Didn't know that either." He comes to his feet and tugs on Rodney's arm, trying not to think too much or else he'll never stop dreaming about touches. "Come on. There's still one of them left."

* * *

Teyla heads back to the mainland shortly thereafter, to where her people have been relocated. They are more at ease there, she assures him when John asks if they'd not rather stay with them in the city. Some of them still fear Atlantis, the city of the ancestors, and they are more comfortable near the woods under the open sky. They can grow their own food there, as well, and the children won't be in the way.

John doesn't tell her or anyone out loud but he'll kind of miss the laughter of the kids and having them running down the corridors – it had kept him at ease. But he understands. Atlantis isn't that safe; it is a military base more than anything else, despite the majority of civilians. It's a war zone, the Wraith still out there, hunting for them.

* * *

There's still a Wraith in one of the cells at the bottom of the city left to deal with, trapped between the bars. It does not pace. It just stands there, still, with a confident patience born out of a life hundreds of years old.

John goes down there alone this time.

"Again?"

The edges of the Wraith's voice are jagged with dry humour and had it had any eyebrows John is sure they would've raised one of them.

"Your kind is persistent. I thought you would have given up by now."

"I got all the time in the world. You, on the other hand …"

There's already hunger in its eyes, furious and raw and it slams a hand against the bars, toward John's chest, drawing back only as it is stopped by a blue force field.

"I'd give you a week, maybe two, tops …" Taunting it is only so effective.

"You waste your time, human. I will provide you with no information."

"I wonder what hurts more," John goes on as if he hasn't heard. "The gunshot wound or the hunger. I'd love to help out, but, how'd McKay put it? 'We can't meet your dietary requirements.'"

"You may think," the Wraith hisses, "that by my capture, you have won a victory. But by bringing me here you have only hastened your own doom."

And somehow John's got a feeling it's not just an empty threat.


	2. Flying a Ship With Silver Lining: 2

**I.  
****Flying a Ship With Silver Lining**

**Chapter Two**

The children are still aiming their Stone Age bows and arrows at them, feral wild looks on their faces and Rodney just won't _shut up_. John elbows him again. Now's not the time. Even those homemade backwards weapons could be harmful even potentially deadly if aimed at the right spot, and he doesn't fancy having any of his team killed by these children.

There's no one older than twenty-five in the village, as far as John can see. Not a speck of greyed hair. The children confirm as much, speaking of afterlife and sacrifice and peace for five hundred years – not a culling for generations. And as realization starts to dawn on them he feels a bit sick. He hides it better than Rodney though, who looks utterly disturbed at the notion.

"It's crazy. _They're_ crazy -"

John hushes him before the tirade can even begin.

They have no medicines of any kind other than what they've come up with using local plants and wildlife, and their homes are simple, hidden up in the trees (reminding John of the ewoks in _Return of the Jedi_). They hunt instead of farm. It's children taking care of children, having no idea that they have no _need_ to kill themselves because age doesn't matter to Wraith, they would have come anyway if not for the magnetic shielding around the place. But explaining this is difficult when they have never heard of electricity, never mind ZPMs.

They're so young and lost and John wonders how the hell they started this…this _mess_. Who the fuck managed to convince them it was the right way? How? _Why_?

* * *

One of the elders, as they're called, is twenty-four year old Keras, apparent leader of the village. Just a year younger than Ford – John hasn't realized until now how young Ford is, really; and thinking about himself then, thirty-four, alone and unmated, makes him reel.

Keras is alpha, scent unmasked, and in his hut there's an omega, female, introduced as his mate. She's heavily pregnant and doesn't look a day older than sixteen. And there's another, a male omega, younger than twenty-four evidently but older than the girl and he walks up to Keras, laying a hand on his shoulder. "They're trespassers. We don't have to explain ourselves." As a ray of sunlight falls from a window of the tree-hut, falling onto the pair, it becomes evident that he is pregnant too.

Like a last struggle for survival, they breed while they kill themselves.

Teyla is most likely to bring sense to them, so John lets her do the talking while Rodney itches to investigate the strange energy signatures he's been reading for the past hour.

"There is a shield around your villages, around a designated area," she tries to explain. "It matters not how old you are, as long as you live within the shield. As long as you stay within its boundaries you can live full lives without fear."

But they don't understand, merely proud to announce that their sacrifices are necessary for the survival of their people.

* * *

Rodney finds a ZPM hidden under the shadows of an old tree, effectively being able to shut the field off so that they can leave. But John is torn.

Keras will kill himself tonight. There'll be no more years ahead of him but he seems set stern, proud even, to protect his people this way and he smiles a little as he says he's leaving offspring behind, letting life of his people carry on.

John feels ready to burst in the seams, barely controlling his frustration as he stands in the centre of one of the twelve villages.

"You could live a full life. Your people won't be more or less protected if you choose not to—"

Because John can't just walk away and let this young man _kill himself._

Keras steps up to him then, collected and calm. "You are a warrior among your people, are you not - one who is trained to defend and protect them? Would you not willingly lay down your life when necessary, as to ensure the survival of the next generation?"

"There is another solution," John says.

Unfortunately, Keras refuses to listen until nightfall is close, when the ceremony has just begun and John realizes that there's a Wraith device blinking in the centre of the village, broadcasting their location to the rest of the galaxy and alerting the Wraith of the humans' presence.

* * *

Carson calls him back for a talk shortly after they return from M7G-677. Well, records will probably state a general physical examination or something likewise vague and fit for protocol, but John goes simply because otherwise the doctor wouldn't stop pestering him about it. They are alone in the room. John didn't bring a radio.

"Have you given thought to my suggestion, Major, about giving medications a rest?"

He finds an interesting pattern on the floor. "A little, doc. Maybe."

"It's been nearly three months now, and in addition to the time before we arrived here –"

John glances at him, hearing the steel slipping into the doc's tone. "I need time, doc. And solitude. That's hard to come by here, I think."

"You don't have to be alone," Carson says softly with a small sigh as John merely squares his shoulders and averts his gaze again. "There are people on this base who you can trust, who would help you if you allow them."

The thing he recalls mostly about his last heat is the pain, at first, and the burning _need_ eating him up from the inside day after day, night after night, brutal and unforgiving, and the vulnerability of his own body and soul.

"I'm not sure I could trust anyone," he admits quietly. "Not when I'm … Not then." Because _who?_

Rodney. No. Not Rodney. Rodney's an alpha. It would only lead to … No.

"I could request a leave for you, pull a few strings."

They have no way back to Earth yet, so that's obviously out of the question. And there is no viable friendly planet to go to; perhaps somewhere uninhabited, but how could anyone motivate that without slipping the truth in? God, John doesn't know if he's ready to let everybody in on the truth.

"Perhaps you could stay on the mainland for a week or so?"

John doesn't reply, only shrugs, looking at the doctor for a moment and Carson sigh quietly in defeat as the major leaves the room.

* * *

"What's up?"

"Huh?"

Rodney settles in front of him in the mess hall, plates and glass rattling and John looks up, surprised. He thought Rodney was too busy with some experiment or another to pass by just for a chat; well, there's food, so that explain some of it.

"You're acting off. Weird. So. Look, Sheppard, I'm not good at this talking business, let's be honest, but you if there's anything –"

It's an oddly sweet gesture but also awfully awkward and nothing's wrong, at least not in the manner that Rodney might think, and John just doesn't know how to speak up about it. How to explain to his friend – he's pretty sure they _are_ friends, by now – that despite those stupid pills he can't calm down his quickening pulse every time he sees Rodney, every time he hears his voice over the radio, can't keep away the dreams at night wherein Rodney …

"Everything's fine."

(It is. From one perspective or another.)

* * *

Everything goes haywire then. The Hoffan drug, trickling into the blood of hundreds of innocent and strangling them to death; it kills the Wraith, but also the human carrying it, and the leaders of the Hoffans are blind in their hubris that this is right, this will work, this _immunity_.

Every time he passes through the gate along with more medicines and supplies for Beckett's team offworld, John steels himself for the sight of more lifeless bodies, more ill people struggling to survive, and the fear of it being someone he knows.

Eventually, they can do no more. The people vote - ninety-six per cent in favour for spreading the drug. For slowly killing themselves.

They won't return to the planet for a long time.

* * *

John had to agree with Rodney that it would be so much simpler and less dangerous if people could just keep their secret underground hatches locked.

Instead they find themselves at gunpoint, deep inside a bunker wherein the Genii are trying to build a freaking _atomic bomb_. John really, really doesn't need Rodney's endless babble about radiation level dangers and physical advancement improbabilities right now.

The debate is rather frank and short but that is the way John prefers it. It helps, a little, when Ford and Teyla are taken down as well, unarmed but uninjured, because Teyla speaks well for them but it would have been easier if the two had been able to escape to the gate and call for backup. Now they have little choice but to deal with these people, agreeing to their terms unless they are to be shot in the head and reported taken by the Wraith.

"Seriously, five years? There's no way they'd be able test that weapon in five years. Fifty's more like it. Except they don't have fifty or five years with the Wraith all woken up now and all."

"Rodney –"

"I mean seriously. Have you had a good look around this bunker, major? We're at least sixty years ahead of these guys and still the -"

"_McKay_. Shut up." After appropriately elbowing the scientist John flashes a pleasant smile at Cowen, leader of the Genii. "The important thing is, are we discussing this as allies or are we still prisoners?"

They raise toasts of foreign wine (at least Pegasus version of wine) for a new albeit shaky alliance and twenty-four hours later, a puddlejumper enters the gate, loaded with C4 and the goal to steal a data device possibly carrying the intel they might need to take the Wraith down.

Still recalling the shrill alarms ringing across the whole hive, they return to Atlantis with darkened faces, having lost this recently gained ally and their nukes – not that it would have made so much difference, they realize when browsing the data of the stolen Wraith data device.

Over twenty hives in this quadrant of Pegasus alone. How many are there in total? How long will it take to take them all down?

They have no other means to get more supplies and food other than through allies. The list remains thin and fragile.

Afterwards, when he's showered and rested for a bit, John is pleasantly surprised to find Rodney in the mess hall, a sandwich in one hand and a datapad in the other. A full plate of food is waiting for to be devoured, yet Rodney is fully focused on the data flashing by his eyes. It's a grand feat for Rodney to be distracted from food and John smirks at the image.

Sneaking up on an alpha is usually quite difficult, their senses on high-alert, any scent able to put off their balance if strong enough. But having just taken another pill, John's scent has been subdued into nothingness once again and seeing the scientist jump makes him chuckle evilly.

"Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?!"

The scientist grumbles something about stupid flyboys with no respect for brilliance as John takes seat, the omega eyeing the plate across the table and stealing some of the fries (well it's not really fries, not made of potatoes but something that the Athosians have grown on the mainland, similar in texture).

"Watcha doing?"

Rodney types in something. "Determining exactly how many hives are waiting out there to bear down on us like starving people would attack a smörgåsbord."

"You should take a break." John means it.

"A break, what, _now?_ No, no, this is far more important and – hey! Those are my fries!"

"I don't see you eating them."

He grins. Nothing quite matches the feeling of riling up his favourite scientist.

* * *

As the fog fades and they step through the gate, there's something off, John can _sense_ it.

SGC is oddly stilted and pale but then, he wasn't here for that long before going to Pegasus so he could be wrong. All faces are unfamiliar save for the brief flashes of General Hammond, whom John hasn't spoken to before and they exchange just a few words. It's … _strange_ when he's redirected from his quarters on the base to a bachelor pad further south, Teyla coming with him to discover the Earth once clearance has been given and then all of these people he has vague memories of begin to show up. Ford is there too, in a corner, laughing with some men John hasn't seen for countless years. But there is no sign of Rodney.

Maybe it is one of the factors tipping him off that something is terribly, terribly _wrong_ here. Not that Rodney would enjoy (he thinks) a beer with them right now, rather the scientist is probably busy with some experiments or whatever back at SGC, but his lack of being there – there hasn't been a word, not even a call – is unsettling, creating this hollowness inside John's chest.

He's not sure who dug it.

The scale tips wholly though when he's greeted by the faces of comrades-in-arms long gone, their eyes alive now, bright in the sun and their voices rich and real. He's never allowed himself to be too close to anyone, never let them touch, but suddenly shoulders are bumping with his and the musk of alpha invades his senses. And this longing, deep and wide etched into his spine starts spinning out of control; he wants to be touched, wants to left alone, wants Rodney to be there, it's all paradoxes - and it's wrong, all _wrong_ and then he finds a gun lying on the living room table.

The next moment, the illusion shatters into another, the Stargate quiet and empty behind them. Rodney's there, _finally_, looking just as confused and startled as him, as General Hammond speaks of fabricated realities and incorporeal life-forms in the fog.

* * *

They tumble back into their own reality dazed and confused, their bodies tired and worn after the hours they have laid unconscious on the ground of the unnamed planet. But John can't forget about the scent of the men he'd served with, once long ago and now dead, how they had all changed into the scent of Rodney, and how it had felt like the hands had all belonged to one person – everything is fuzzy and vague and yet sharply clear like ice.

"I'm _starving_," Rodney mutters as he comes to his feet.

John remains lying for a moment longer, feeling creeping back into his extremities. He begins to move once the gate whooshes into life to bring them back home. Back to Atlantis.

* * *

Beckett calls for him to come to the doctor's office shortly thereafter, John's pulse still staggering as he remembers what had happened on not-Earth, his emotions spiking. He takes another pill before he goes. Must've been too many hours since his last one. Yes, that must be it, he tells himself; the longing had just been part of the illusions.

"Major."

"Doc. I know what you're going to say and I think you know my answer."

"I am just thinking about your health, John," Carson says. "How long do you plan to keep this up?"

"I…I don't know." (Forever?)

In an attempt of distraction, he follows Teyla to the mainland two days later, bringing some new supplies and medicines for them, things they cannot make on their own. She's insightful, as always, noticing his subdued manner and John tries cracking a joke to ease up the atmosphere but thinks he's just failing horribly. (He can't stop thinking.)

The storm is twelve hours away.

"John, is anything the matter?" she asks, settling into the co-pilot seat.

"No, why would there be?"

The lie is so familiar and slips off his tongue with ridiculous ease, but Teyla has this way of seeing right through untrue words and John avoids looking into her eyes.

* * *

When the storm is three hours away, Atlantis has been mostly evacuated along with the people of the mainland – Ford's jumper forced to stay and ride out the storm there - and John is rushing toward the last grounding station when an unfamiliar voice suddenly crackles in his radio. Coming to an abrupt halt, he holds his breath and listens.

"… _where is Major Sheppard?"_

He's never heard the voice before and while Elizabeth responds calmly, he's not quite sure she is - or that Rodney is.

They're being held hostage by the Genii. John's fists clenches around his rifle in anger. He doesn't care what they want, or even who they are, it doesn't matter; as long as his people are in danger he won't meet their demands. He's going to free them one way or another and defeat those who have invaded Atlantis, killing two marines in the process.

He won't let this happen in his city.

Acustus Kolya, the man leading the Genii strike force calls himself, and even his _name_ reeks.

Jumper two is still stuck on the mainland in the clutches of the storm so for the moment he is on his own. A direct assault on the gate room is out of the question; he has no idea of the size of the strike team or of its fire-power, and he cannot risk Rodney and Elizabeth being caught in the crossfire.

But has the city on his side. One advantage is better than none.

_Hold on, Rodney. Hold on. I'll get us out of this mess._

* * *

"Is that all?" Rodney asks stoically, glaring at their captor with icy eyes.

"No. Where is Major Sheppard?"

And Rodney's ready to punch the man right in the face because he'll be _damned_ if he lets this bastard lay claim on not only Atlantis but also on John. He won't get to John, not _ever_.

He remains quiet under Kolya's burning demands, Elizabeth avoiding the questions with ones of her own.

"How do we know you won't kill us once we give you what you need?"

The answer is so terrifyingly simple. "You don't."

* * *

Suddenly Rodney's voice fills the corridor he's running down, out of the jumper bay.

"…_just need the C4, some medical supplies and the Wraith data device, then let them have it so they may be on their way. None of that is worth dying for."_

At least Rodney is well enough to talk and think. That's good. That's good.

John's belly keeps tying itself into knots anyway.

The radio crackles again. This time because he left one for them to find in the now empty C4 storage boxes in the armoury.

"_This is commander Kolya."_

"Kolya? That's difficult to pronounce. That's a first name or a last name?" He pauses, but the man doesn't reply. "I have hidden the C4 so that you'll never find it. When I get confirmation that the prisoners have been safely released and allowed to gate off Atlantis, I'll show you to it."

"_Your offer is very generous, Major. However, Dr McKay recently told me that there is a plan in motion to save Atlantis rather than let it be taken by the storm."_

_Damn it, Rodney!_

But he wouldn't just reveal that. Or maybe, in his babble when he's nervous. What have they done to him to make him talk? Held him at gunpoint? Beat him? Worse? Rodney's strong, his instincts helping him survive, he's alpha for goodness' sake but he's better at verbal battles than at physical ones and he's unarmed at the moment. Without weapon he couldn't have fought back even if he surely must've struggled a great deal – being a bother to his captors (and possibly himself).

_Just hold on,_ John thinks again, a plan starting to form in his mind as Kolya speaks, heightening the demands.

"_The city will be ours or the ocean's."_

He heads for the grounding station.

* * *

Taking out the men is easy. They do not know their way around the city, spooked by the dark silence, but John knows these corridors by now like the back of his hand. One by one, they fall under his gunfire, but he doesn't hear the shouts or the ringing of bullets. All he can think of is Rodney, trapped in the control room, probably freaking out while demanding explanation.

If they've hurt Rodney –

"_You killed two of my men."_

"I guess we're even!"

"_I don't __**like**__ even."_

And then Kolya points a gun to Rodney's head. John screams at him, voice broken across the radio and the rain, but they can probably see through the empty threats of him activating the self-destruct because if they had the intel to gain access the city they probably know that he can't activate it on its own. The waves crash onto the pier and the thunder mixes with John's heartbeat.

"Kolya! I'll give you a ship! I'll fly it out of here myself! Let. Them. _Go_."

They can have all the C4 in the world, the supplies even and himself, he doesn't fucking care as long as Rodney and Elizabeth are released and –

"_How is this for credibility: McKay is dead."_

No words can make sense to the fury, the hatred coursing through his veins and everything's so fucking screwed up and, god, god, _Rodney_ –

"I … am going … to **kill you.**" Breaths wheezing sharply he punctuates every word, the image of Rodney imprinted on the inside of his eyelids: another broken body, slipped away, another of the men lost in battle, another killed friend, another failed mission.

"_Stay out of my way, Major, or Dr Weir will join him."_

* * *

He doesn't know, maybe he should feel remorse, killing all these men (another reason they don't like omegas in the military, they're too soft-hearted, they say, their instincts not sharp enough) but he doesn't. Their bodies are meaningless to him and he's killed so many times before, it's just another stitch to add to the long seam making up the lives claimed, humans and aliens and enemies.

There's a cold vacuum spreading from his heart.

He takes out the power in the tower just like he did the men, in indifference, without tremors. He's got to save Elizabeth and there's still a jumper stuck on the mainland, waiting to return. There has to be a city for them to return to.

The reinforcements arrive and he raises the gate shield before they can react. By the time he's fled the control room, the gate has already shut down after claiming dozens of lives but there's no time or emotion to spare for him to feel proud of the accomplishment if it is one.

"…_There are two flaws in your plan, Major,"_ Kolya apparently feels the need to inform him. By now John is running on adrenaline alone. Once it's settled, once the storm is atop of them, part of him might just fall apart, crumbling like old stone, his enemies drowning along with him. _"One: you actions, which leads me to the assumption that you'd rather have the city destroyed than fall to me, are childish. Second: if and when I determine Atlantis unsalvageable, Doctors Weir and McKay become obsolete."_

No – yes – _oh god_ - "McKay's alive?"

Rodney's _alive_.

And suddenly the cavern about to collapse inside him begins to rebuild, the pillars once again being put in place and holding it up.

* * *

Rodney is wet and cold and miserable and he's not, for once, not a hundred per cent sure if it'll work. He's fixed the last grounding station as best he can but there are no safe bets. A few minutes earlier, power had been restored, meaning John had given in to one of Kolya's demands, turning the naquada generator back on. Rodney is torn between anger and relief. Relief because John is still out there alive and fighting, and anger at Kolya, at the Genii, for still keeping them here, trapped in the rain.

There's no guarantee that Kolya won't just kill them off once they've gotten the shields up and the city safe. Without him or Elizabeth as hostage, there'd be no hindrance for the Genii and the only Lantean left would be John, the only thing defending him would be his P90 and, gods, Rodney doesn't even want to think about it.

"Look," he shouts to Elizabeth over the clashing thunder, "if this doesn't work –"

"It will work."

"But in the unlikely event it doesn't –" And he sends her a desperate stare, _Please stall them, I'm horrible at talking, and I'm sorry if I fail and if you survive and I don't, let John know that... _He can't finish the thought, too terrified it might slip.

She just looks at him and nods.

* * *

Then the gate filled with light and the Genii, in panic and chaos, began to retreat under the bullets hailing down from above, dragging their two prisoners along with them.

Rodney lashes out at the nearest guard, grabbing the man's gun with his uninjured hand in a motion so quick he surprises himself as well, and has the guard's weapon turned on himself. Adrenaline quickens his pulse. And there he sees him – John, running out into the open, risking everything, and albeit it's subdued Rodney can sense it, his scent, familiar and warm and, gods, John's _alive_.

"McKay! Is the shield up?!"

Rodney isn't even sure if it'd worked until a large wave crashes onto Atlantis, cleaving as it hits the force field and shrouding the city in a great roaring shadow.

Another two men fall down on the floor, hit in the chest.

Kolya isn't one of them.

* * *

Then the gate shuts down and goes still, save for the storm raging outside. But for now, it's over. They exhale as one, sinking onto the floor in exhaustion, not exchanging any words for some time. Then, Teyla helps Carson to his feet – Rodney can't place what the doctor's even doing here – and they leave for the jumper bay where some Athosians are huddled in jumper two, waiting for it to be over. Elizabeth looks at him once, briefly, as if knowing something that he doesn't before rising to her feet as well, pale and shaken but otherwise unharmed.

Rodney doesn't think – well not as much as usual, anyway, as if part of his brain is numbing away along with the cut in his arm – just walks up to John and itches to touch him, embrace him, and it's so out of character for him that it's frightening.

John stands there calm and quiet, but there's fire raging in his eyes and Rodney takes a deep breath, comforted by the other's scent and warm presence.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

A frown creases John's brow. "Your arm."

"Nothing too serious," Rodney says but adds, when John doesn't look too convinced at the lack of complaint, "oh well it was, it hurt like hell and really, all this blood can't be good. Oh my god, I'm having a blood loss, aren't I? I'm going to go into shock."

"Let's get Beckett look you over, shall we?"

And when John speaks, so calm and collected with that familiar drawl, it's almost like nothing's happened except Rodney can sense the shadows of _I almost lost you _there.

And Rodney thinks _I almost lost you too. But now you're here and I'm okay. We're okay._

* * *

It is, in a way, the turning point.

For the next couple of days, Rodney isn't sure how to move on. Because while everything's changed, nothing has changed – an incredibly bothering paradox. They're teammates and it's not the first time they've saved each other from imminent death. But something, he senses, has changed perhaps _within_ John.

It's like the puzzle that makes up John Sheppard just has gained a few more pieces but there is no manual to make them fit and it's driving Rodney insane as he tries figuring it all out.

It's the scent.

John's scent is ordinary and simple like any beta's. They have no need for any; really, it's just a means of identification that they themselves can hardly use because their senses are not that attuned. But, now when concentrating on it, Rodney feels some kind of _taint_ to it. Like …

… like drugs or medicines that make one's self hazy.

But why? Why'd he…? _Unless_ …

No. That's ridiculous. The military loathes all stretching of the rules and it is one of those unwritten, unyielding rules that omegas don't _do_military. For Rodney this has never really been an issue, his care of the military in general is about a teaspoon big and the one he has for the American military is even less than that, considering all of their stupid rules, and he's an alpha so for him it hardly matters anyway.

But _what if –_


	3. Flying a Ship With Silver Lining: 3

**I.  
****Flying a Ship With Silver Lining**

**Chapter Three**

Why'd he let those two with them on this trip again? All right, fair enough, Gaul is the one who discovered the ancient satellite with the long-range scanners and Elizabeth had more or less ordered his presence, but why Abrams as well? They're just … just in the way right now and Rodney has trouble concentrating after sitting in a jumper for fifteen hours, drowned in John's scent, the other man so close and yet so far away.

"Ease up on the controls, Rodney."

He tries, honestly, it's not his fault that the jumper won't fly in a straight line but in space all motion is relative so in the end it hardly matters. Right more he's more concerned about the possibility (risk? Chance?) of a hard-on and gods he wishes he could close the bulkhead door, getting rid of those two annoying scientists so that'd just be him and John –

He's got it fucking _bad_.

"Don't let go of the controls!"

"Snapping doesn't help!"

* * *

Rodney's looking at him again, nostrils flaring and despite all the alarms going off in his head, John can't help the shiver of the delight working its way through his body. He tries masking it, again, using a fair dose of sarcasm and Rodney nearly snaps again. But it's at least somewhat of a distraction.

Maybe he should be glad for the two scientists – both of them beta – sitting in the back. While they complain about motion sickness at least they create this shield so that nothing … nothing will happen between him and Rodney right now. John isn't sure what he'd do if they hadn't been there, if it had been just him and Rodney.

He's got another three pills hidden away in his left boot. A constant precaution he's made sure to have for the last few years.

There is three feet of air between them and all he can sense is the heavy, heady scent of alpha, all of it Rodney's pungent presence, and John wonders if the effects of the suppressants are starting to wear off after these long years of regular consumption.

He's shaken out of his thoughts by Rodney's focus shifting slightly and one of the scientists behind them exclaims something about a faint signal.

It sounds eerie and alien.

"That's a distress call," Rodney murmurs then. "A _Wraith_ distress call."

* * *

The ten thousand year old ship is half-way buried in sand. Everything is silent and dead save for the distress call and the signs of a Wraith having recently fed on one of its own, which is even freakier than Wraiths in the first place.

* * *

"That thing killed Abrams!"

"And I'm sorry about that," Rodney says, nearly screams because John can't be thinking about going out there _alone_ – "but just because we both made an error in judgement –"

"I don't have time to argue about this!"

(Later, Rodney would curse again and again, as he'd hesitated even as he heard the explosions and gunshots. He should _never_ have hesitated, never should have risked it.)

* * *

"You okay?"

"Other than this, and a few cracked ribs …"

Rodney can't get the picture out of his head: the Wraith standing over John's limp body, hand outstretched –

_Let it go. Let it go. I'm okay. We're okay. We're alive._

For now they both hold onto that.

* * *

John dreams of warm strong hands on his sides, holding him steady, and a body pressed close to his own, the potent scent of aroused alpha taking over his mind.

When he wakes, sweating and shivering, he struggles to roll out of bed and onto his feet, hands unsteady as he fumbles to reach the door of the bathroom adjoined to his quarters. The doors open with a quiet hiss.

Splashing water onto his face, he looks into the mirror under the dimmed lights. His eyes gleam, and he looks tired and worn out like after a long battle. He can't forget the shadows of touch, unreal against his skin, or the feeling of _emptiness_ inside of him, needing to be filled –

Scrambling through his pack, stored inside a closet in the wall, he finds a package of pills. He's overdone it as of late, and he knows, and the suppressants won't last for much longer. He'll run out of them within the month, maybe sooner, and then …

Forcing a couple of them down his throat dry, John puts the rest away, hiding them from the world. For a moment he closes his eyes, resting his forehead against the cool surface of the mirror, hands leaning against the sink.

Maybe Carson's right. He can't keep this up forever.

All illusions must one day be shattered.

* * *

"You truly thought a shot to the shoulder would kill me, Major?"

"Well," John admits, "I had my hopes up that it might have."

Kolya stands over the hatch, weapon pointed downwards, aimed at John's head.

"Look, I'll help you find the ZedPM if you let my team go," Rodney says, ignoring John's hissed protests and _Are you crazy? We need to work together, as a team, to get out of here _but Kolya nods.

They have little choice but to trust the man's words, for now, surrendering themselves to his mercy. As he climbs up, Rodney glances at John a final time, a thousand words ready on his tongue but he dares to utter none, all of a sudden, unable to trust himself or his control. He just looks at John and nods, quietly promising _We'll get out of here._

* * *

By the time they do get out, Rodney is too astounded at both gaining a ZPM and suddenly knowing that John could've been in Mensa and John is too relieved to be alive that they realize too late they're being double-crossed.

They return to Atlantis empty-handed, only to find out there are three Wraith hive ships on the way, two men and a jumper lost, and they have no idea what to do.

* * *

"Two weeks. What kind of defence could we mount against that in just _two weeks_?!"

It's not the first and definitely not the last time one of those of Rodney's tirades begins. Somehow, each time they meet up in the mess hall or the control room, the scientist can't stop himself from mentioning it and freak out. Because three hive ships can easily wipe out Atlantis – they don't have enough power to get the shields up more than for a few minutes, seconds if under fire. The city will burn and sink and they will all be incinerated.

"Look, McKay, there's still time, no need to panic just yet," John says.

"I say we _should_ panic!" That's Carson, and Captain Cadman gives the omega a strong pat in the back that's meant to be soothing but it only aggravates the doctor more. This is really not the place for him to be at the moment.

The air in the conference room is tenser than usual. All sorts of plans have been presented, looked over and discarded. It all comes down to this: they don't have enough soldiers and definitely not enough power to meet the Wraith attack head on. The shields are non-existent, the weapons system offline and there are just too many civilians on the expedition team to risk it. They have been searching for evacuation sites for five days now.

Anywhere, any place to go, to _survive._

Lists are being made, people are packing belongings and data. Priority is necessary. Civilians needs to get off the city first, the scientists, the omegas and betas, the unarmed. John shifts uncomfortably in his seat as the priority list is presented, as even Elizabeth, backed up by Sergeant Bates and Carson, agrees on how important it is to get the omegas off-world. Since their coming to Atlantis, several people have mated and while there are no pregnancies yet – such risks haven't been taken, precautions put in place – age-old partialities are hard to let go of.

When Carson glances at him across the conference table, John just stares at the data screen on the wall, pretending to listen as Grodin talks about planets possible to relocate to.

Fuck, he doesn't want to leave Atlantis. It's become their _home_. They can't just … can't just abandon it now.

But what other choices do they have?

Atlantis is the only way back to Earth. They cannot allow the Wraith to reach Earth; cannot let them lay claim on the city.

* * *

"If you're here to tell me that I should evac with the others – "

"I'm not. I know you're too stubborn for that," Carson says, shaking his head and lowering his voice; "I've noticed a change in you over the last few days. Is everything all right, lad?"

The silence following the statement is enough to understand what he means. He just hopes that only Carson has picked it up because the doctor has been keeping an extra eye on him for the last couple of months.

"You don't … don't happen to have any more suppressants around, would you, doc?" John asks quietly, glancing around to make sure they're alone.

"Nothing with the strength that you've used. Those pills weren't part of the inventory as we left here, and the only ones I've had have been distributed among the officially listed omegas on this base. I'm sorry, major."

Fuck. _Fuck_.

"Doc, please, there's got to be _something_."

Carson would probably have liked to protest, to refuse, but he must realize that this isn't the time. Whether he leaves now or later, it doesn't matter, because though they can't fight and hope to win all military personnel is expected to linger until the last moment, until the self-destruct is set and the city left to die. It's not the time for him to let heat claim him.

So the doctor slips him a package later that night and John discretely puts it inside the arm of his jacket, keeping it there until he reaches his quarters. Another six pills. The brand is another, more legal than the one he's used too and the effect won't be as strong or last. But it'll have to do.

* * *

There's been a Wraith loose in the city for two weeks. They don't realize, though, until they find Bates beat up and unconscious in a corridor.

Then, there's a frenzy of activity, guns are pulled out of holsters, and the marines spread out to search for it as the clock ticks faster.

* * *

John's senses return slowly, his body full of pins and needles. Someone kneels beside him. For a moment he thinks, he _hopes_ that it's Rodney, but there is no warm familiar presence, not a ghost of Rodney's scent. It's nothing safe and he shies away.

His body, heavy and sore, won't move.

The Wraith leers down at him and John dazedly tries to reach for his sidearm, only to find his gun is far out of reach.

It breathes heavily and John realizes then that the stunner must have done something, interfering with the medications in some way or maybe it's just wearing off dangerously quickly. The creature _knows_. He's not even sure if the Wraith are compelled to ponder alphas and omegas, if they're anything like humans but he's pretty certain they're not.

"Some of my kind would leave your sort alive, human, to ensure that we will have a supply for our next culling," the Wraith says, its voice rough and inhuman and John shudders, feeling ill with the implications of its words. "But I have not fed for many days, and we have a new rich feeding ground waiting for us."

It raises its hand, tearing open his TAC vest with the other and John braces himself.

Then suddenly the Wraith's gone, fallen aside and he senses Teyla and Ford arriving, albeit the man is standing outside his field of vision. She kneels beside him, speaking softly. "We've got you, major. You're going to be okay."

* * *

Rodney has already left with a team in a last desperate attempt to bring an old abandoned satellite online, in order to use its weapon to destroy or at least slow down the hive ships heading for them. He hears nothing of the incident with the Wraith until he returns, forty hours later, Peter Grodin dead; and worry and fear surges up in Rodney when he's told of what happened, how they tracked down the Wraith to a lower part of the city, where it ambushed the team of marines hunting it. How John had been leading those men, the Wraith so dangerously close to feeding on him. If he'd been there …

He's angry too, so angry at himself.

He should've been there. It's what a proper alpha _should've_ done. Stayed with those he cares for and protected them and, damn it, even if John's a beta he's not even mated to, Rodney could lay down his life for him at any moment. He'd been unable to protect him then – failed as a member of his team, failed as an alpha, failed as a friend.

It might happen now, again and again, or just this once, as the Wraith bear down on them. With his last breath Grodin had been able to take out one of the hives, but two are still on the way. It's possibly selfish to think so, because John's a trained commanding officer, a soldier but Rodney doesn't want him to be there – he wants him to leave with the first evac group, not wait until the last possible moment.

John has to _live_. He must ensure it.

(An ever-going mantra in his head and heart; _John has to_ _survive_.)

* * *

The self-destruct alarm hanging over them, the Stargate unexpectedly activates, opening a wormhole from Earth.

There's a frantic rush of _How? When?_ as the marines step into the city, heavily armed, all weaponry and conviction. Colonel Everett throws the words of Elizabeth aside far too damn easily and John clenches his teeth, torn on how to act. He knows how he _should_ act, what protocol demands, how orders are given, but every fibre in his being protests to what the colonel is saying.

That a battle-ready ship is on its way is only a small consolation. How long could they possibly hope to last? Four days?

But at the mention of a ZPM soon to reach the city, Rodney's face gains more colour than it has in days and John thinks that maybe there is some hope. If Rodney has even the faintest belief that they'll survive, then they might. (Unless it's all just an illusion and they're all very, truly screwed.)

* * *

John sits in the conference room tight-lipped and tense as Colonel Everett informs them of the plan. The less attention he gains, the better. He has to bite his tongue to keep away the smart-ass remarks threatening to cross his lips.

He doesn't miss how the alphas are glancing at him. The medicine's wearing off and he's ready to bolt at any moment.

All civilians have been grounded from the meeting, which he thinks is fairy insane and stupid, because input from the scientists could save lives but the colonel refuses to listen – it took a heated debate to even allow Elizabeth, their _leader_, to participate. The room is swarming with marines, and John feels like a sore thumb and they are starting to notice it.

Six nuclear warheads. Thousands of bullets. A naquada generator to power the chair. Men who have never seen a Wraith in real life. (Almost too bad there's nothing but a corpse left of the Wraith they'd caught the week before, John bitterly reflects, and no trace left of the one they had captured during their first two months on the base, for them to see for real.) These men really have _no idea_ what they're up against.

Amidst the confidence he smells fear, though. They don't know what to expect. No simulations can come near the real thing.

As the meeting concludes, John takes his leave as quickly as possible, wishing to gain at least an hour of solitude before the tempest but of course, with his luck, he immediately runs into Rodney who's bickering with one of the marines about generators and common sense.

At seeing him, the alpha instantly breaks off the argument leaving the marine slack-jawed and perhaps terrified (Rodney's verbal attacks can have that effect on the inexperienced) and walks up to him before John can escape. His nerves tingle when Rodney steps close, their shoulders brushing against one another and he's certain that Rodney notices something off with his scent by now.

"Hey, Sheppard, I –"

"What is it?" he grunts out, the words sharper than intended and Rodney narrows his eyes at him. He keeps walking, taking the safest routes he can come up with, seeking corridors where no one else is walking. But Rodney follows persistently.

"Look, if we don't make this, I, I just wanted to say – John, wait! Stop. Stop."

Rodney speaks his name like a plead, a prayer, bringing him to a halt. John glances at him. The alpha's eyes are gleaming in the dim, fists clenched as if they ought to be holding something but cannot find anything to grasp but air.

"I just realized, that, if you know, we don't make it. I just wanted to say – it's been an honour. We're … we're good, right?"

John forces himself to take a steadying breath so that he won't fall over as he takes Rodney's hand, shaking it. There are no words he can offer back (none that he dares to utter), so he just nods jerkily. "Yeah. We're good."

* * *

Sensors blinded by the explosions of the mines – another failed plan – they don't discover the ships until the Wraith are right on top of them.

* * *

"Just get the damn chair working, Rodney!"

"I _am_ working on it but if I do this wrong we're risking an overload!"

His hands are trembling. Not because of the force of the weapon he's wielding, his mind seeking targets overhead, but being this close to Rodney is bringing him to a breaking point. The cracks are showing.

Fuck, it's so wrong, it's not the time, he's warm and ill and just want to crawl into a pathetic pile and hide from the world – heat slowly envelopes him, his body's basic needs overriding other functions.

He's barely aware of setting the last dart aflame with a drone, sending it crashing into the ocean. He cannot think until Rodney – aware and frantic and perhaps that is why he is leaving – runs out of the room, back to the control room, leaving John slumped on the chair with sweat beading on his forehead.

* * *

After the first wave is over, the city is dark and burning in the night, and finally the backup from Earth begins to realize that it's not as simple as it may have seemed on paper. They're out of warheads and have lost dozens of men, shot or beamed up into darts, and are running out of power and ideas.

As Elizabeth leaves to make a deal with the Genii to gain them an a-bomb, in a desperate attempt to survive the next wave the Wraith will send, they spread their forces thin across the city to search for and destroy the Wraith that had managed to infiltrate the base during the attack.

John's whole body aches and burns with fever and he doesn't know how much longer he can do this. He keeps struggling because it's the only thing he can do, clinging to the voices rasping over the radio to have a lifeline, but he cannot focus and eventually it's all just too much, his body and emotions on overload.

Half-way between the chair and the control room, he collapses in a corner, drawing his arms around himself with a broken groan and, oh god, he's going into heat in the middle of battle.

* * *

"Where's Sheppard?"

Nobody can provide a satisfying answer and Rodney curses (again) about the misfortune that they haven't got their sensors working since the last kamikaze run the darts did, knocking out most of their primary systems.

_Come on –_

The only person nearby with a strong enough gene is Carson, so Rodney ignores his protests and drags him toward the chair.

"But I can't fly jumpers even while I'm sitting in them, how am I supposed to do that _remotely_?" the doctor cries aghast.

Wherever John's gone, he's hidden – or has the city hidden _him_? – somewhere in a corridor or room they don't pass even if the place is crawling with marines and Wraith both, and Rodney finds no traces on him on the way to the chair room except the lingering scent of _omega_ and _panic _and _heat_.

* * *

Nothing could possibly get worse than this.

Except he misses Rodney so fucking much, where he's lying alone in the dark, wishing he'd gotten a chance to be touched by him at least _once_but Rodney has gone to finish building an atomic bomb so that they may take out at least one of the hive ships. Just – _Rodney_ – and the Wraith are nearing the city again, far-off there's the shrill echo of darts approaching, and vaguely he hears his radio crackling, voices asking for his position but he can't reply.

"_Sheppard? Major Sheppard, do you copy?"_

_Oh gods Rodney. Just once. Just._

He ruts helplessly against his hand, trying to shut out the primal _need, _to focus on the moment. There's a battle out there. He needs to get back up there, weapon in hand, to fight. If the plan fails, if the jumper with the bomb won't take off as it should then –

"_Sheppard? … Sheppard, this is McKay, please respond."_

"R…'ney?" Breathe. Breathe. He can't be still but struggles to stand.

"_Where the hell are you?! Get to the chair, Carson can't seem to make the jumper lift and I need you here to … Sheppard, can you hear me? Sheppard!"_

He wonders if it's a private frequency or if everyone can hear. "I'm … here."

The jumper … they have to get it into the air. That is the whole plan. To remote control it and bring a nuke straight into one of the hives. To save Atlantis. To save home. To save Rodney. John gasps as he grabs an outcropping on the wall and pulls himself up. He's got to – he has to (save him) – _Rodney_ –

* * *

Rodney's cry echoes after him down the hallway.

"John! What the hell are you _doing_?!"

He mustn't turn around. Mustn't stop himself. Otherwise they'll all be dead.

"_Sheppard!"_

Arriving at the loaded jumper he finds Radek fiddling with one of the controls, trying to make contact between it and the chair. The Czech looks at him shocked and bewildered when John pushes him out, closing the hatch before protests can be made. He collapses onto the pilot seat and everything goes on automatic from there, one of his hands on the controls, linked to his mind. He won't answer the calls on the radio. Helpless in his own flesh, he guides the jumper – cloaking it with a distant thought – through the air, past the bombardments, toward one of the hives.

_Rodney_, he thinks, closing his eyes as he nears the large ship; he's hot and cold, sweating out the fever settled in his soul. Regret fills him from the bottom of his heart, that he never told anyone, that he never told Rodney, that he never acknowledged anything between them, that he didn't give in earlier just to experience a single mating.

_Live for me, Rodney. Please. __**Survive**__._

Then a voice urges him to de-cloak the jumper and confused, he obeys – he wants to live, he's never wanted to die - and bright white suddenly surrounds him, the world dissolving two point three seconds before the nuke explodes.


	4. Flying a Ship With Silver Lining: 4

**I.  
****Flying a Ship With Silver Lining**

**Chapter Four**

He wakes up in an infirmary, drunk on sedatives.

_Atlantis?_

But there is not the steady hum of the city. This is someplace else. And he's alive. Should he be?

"Oh, thank god you're awake!"

_Rodney?_

"Carson's had you on sedatives for the past seventeen hours, I was wondering if you'd _ever_ wake up, you know, with medicine involving more voodoo than science you can never be too sure. How're you feeling?"

Yeah, that's Rodney.

"'m all right." Whatever Carson's given him as numbed his senses enough for him to think clearly, not the haze it was before, and the need is more like an itch than the swelling raw wound it was the hours before (seventeen hours?). He's sore and thirsty but has no appetite to speak of, and he's surprisingly whole for someone just caught in a nuke blast.

"We're on the Daedalus," the alpha goes on. It sounds like he's chewing on a sandwich. Had his tongue not felt so heavy John would've cut in by now with some smart remark. "Commander Caldwell or what's-his-name managed to beam you out just before the explosion occurred. Right now we're headed back to Earth. Don't worry, Atlantis is still standing – well, technically floating. The other hive was destroyed and we made a fairy impressive show, I mean, it was my idea after all so who is surprised - but, they left. The surviving Wraith. Thought we'd destroyed Atlantis using the self-destruct. So now they think that Lantea is nothing but empty ocean."

"Ugh." It's too much at once and the words don't properly register until afterwards. John focuses on Rodney's presence instead, comforted by its cordiality.

Wait.

He'd entered heat. So why …?

Eyes suddenly open wide, he searches Rodney's face for answers. "Um, Rodney…" He's never been this collected or sane during a heat before. "I'm on meds…right?"

"Yeah. Painkillers and suppressant and whatnot. Carson said your body was in such stress after the battle and everything, but he's letting you off on it slowly. It's more of a … precaution," and here Rodney clears his throat, "being on a ship with a majority of alphas on board after all. There was some frenzy and chaos when they beamed you on board to realize you were in heat. I heard you were kind of delirious so they put you in an isolated room. They beamed Carson on board to help as soon as they could."

John flushes, feeling a mixture of shame and fear and embarrassment of outing himself like that, risking his career and integrity – and he's thankful too, for Caldwell's quick thinking. Being alone and in heat anyone could've just –

He shakes his head, trying not to think of it. (He's not so sure that Rodney isn't thinking it.)

"So, you know, a precaution," Rodney finishes awkwardly. "You … you okay?"

"Think so. My head hurt like hell." Damned side-effects. "Wait, you faked the city's self-destruct? The Wraith're gone?"

"By turning the shield into a cloak right after detonating a nuke above it. The Wraith bought it without question, turning on their heels when realizing there was nothing left to salvage."

"Woah. Clever."

"Actually I got the idea from you; I was at a blank and then, well, I realized I had to think _not_ like me and there's nothing more opposite really than me other than you so …"

For the first time in days (possibly weeks) John smiles. "I'll take that as a compliment."

* * *

He remains bedridden, on Carson's orders, for another five days. Now without the ZPM to boost its engines the Daedalus' trip back to Earth is considerably slower than its trip to Pegasus, but John doesn't complain. More time here means more time with Rodney. More time away from the generals and watchful eyes on Earth. And while the ship is filled with marines and security cameras, he's relatively safe here.

He meets Steven Caldwell, the ship's commander, two days after awakening. The meds still in his system, Carson deems it okay for him to be left alone with an alpha (Rodney being the uttermost proof of that even if John still itches to touch him). Besides, Caldwell – once he's gotten over the initial shock – greets him mostly with indifference, like nothing could ever faze the man and they shake hands, nothing else. He seems like a good commander, respectable and smart, much like Elizabeth.

John is not given the full reports on the siege of Atlantis until he's let out of the infirmary. They drop the bombshells then. One after the other.

* * *

First off, Colonel Everett is dead. Fed upon. They found him like a corpse in a darkened hallway, hours after the battle had ended, just barely alive and they could do nothing but ease his passing. Carson murmurs that the man's last words were of regret and understanding, of fear of having been trapped there alone without knowing really what monsters the Wraith were. John sighs but does not grieve his death like he does for many others of the men and women who have died over the last four days. John's glad he was aboard the Daedalus, confined to bed, during the military funeral.

* * *

There's more (there's always more).

Ford's gone. Left. Addicted to the Wraith enzyme, he took off and nobody knows where. Regret courses through John that he wasn't there to stop it from happening. That he wasn't there to save Ford from that horrible fate. He should have been there, fulfilling his duty as team leader and yet –

"It's not your fault, you know," Rodney mutters when John buries his face in his hands. "He was crazy. He threatened Carson and took out two marines when stealing a jumper – they're fine now, nothing deadly, just bruises. But he's not sane."

"Can we track him?"

"Maybe. Possibly. Probably not. We have no idea which address he dialled to and chances are he just, moved on, took off through the gate as soon as he was through – there's no way of knowing."

At least he was alive. There's a tiny sliver of hope still.

"And you, McKay? Are _you_ all right?"

The question seems to startle Rodney. "Oh, of course. Well, considering I was nearly shot at (Teyla saved me) then almost fed on (saved by Teyla … again) and lastly nearly incinerated by an a-bomb, I'm pretty good."

"Good. That's good." _I'm glad._

And John takes his hand then, on impulse. It feels more right than any action has felt for days, weeks, and Rodney strokes his knuckles with his thumb, slowly, without comment.

* * *

Half-way to the Milky Way Rodney comes to a horrible realization, now that the storm's settled and he once again is allowed to sit down and _think_.

"They can't send you back to Earth permanently, can they, for basically sneaking into the military?" – "There was no sneaking involved, Rodney, I just did what I had to," John rolls his eyes at him but the scientist goes on nonetheless - "Could they court martial you? They could do that. Oh my god. They could. They _can_. Oh god! What if they send you back?!"

John winces. "Rodney …"

"We should mate. You and me. Like, now, as soon as possible. Then they can't separate you from me, I mean us, from Atlantis, they can't send you back then, because mates cannot be separated, even in America they've got to have some law or Human Rights Act concerning that." Rodney's babbling now, barely giving John time to get a word in edgewise. "I'll radio General Landry as soon as we're in range that –"

"_Rodney_!"

The alpha stills.

"Rodney," John says again, softer this time and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "Calm down."

And he grabs Rodney's collar, the first button of his shirt opened, and tugs him down feeling the edge of the computer resting in the man's lap (he's been frantically typing away the last half hour) bump against his thigh, and kisses him. It's hot and wet and fuck, he's needed this for _months_.

"Huh," Rodney mutters once they part.

He frowns slightly suspiciously. "What d'you mean, 'huh'?"

"Usually it's the other way around. Especially the first kiss. Who initiates it, I mean. Not that I believe in all the biases."

John glowers at him, arms crossed but he's not _really_ angry or annoyed. It's more the principle of the thing. "If you think you've gotten yourself a submissive omega that'll kiss your feet and worship the ground you walk on, you're entirely on the wrong continent (and possibly in the wrong galaxy)."

"Oh that's fine," Rodney responds, "otherwise it'd just gotten too boring anyway."

And that's quite all right with John, as he leans up to claim another kiss. (If not for the nurses and the security cameras …)

* * *

Earth. It's been so many months. Coming back is off-putting and relieving and frightening all at once, because he's not sure if it's right to call it _home_ anymore.

"Ready?" Rodney murmurs as Deadalus settles into orbit around the planet and the senior staff of the Atlantis expedition is gathered to be beamed down to the SGC.

_Not sure, but you're with me so maybe_, John thinks but nods. "Yeah."

No hand is offered for him to grasp. He understands why (but something inside his chest twinges nonetheless).

The breath-taking view over Earth is then replaced by the grey interiors of the base within the mountain complex in Colorado. (Lieutenant) General O'Neill and (Major) General Landry are there waiting for them, along with a linguist – Doctor Daniel Jackson, if he remembers properly – whom John saw briefly in Antarctica and has read about in the SG-1 reports when killing time on the long ride back to the human home-world.

* * *

To his great shock he isn't fired or burned over a spit or shipped off the base to be handed over to some alpha he's never met.

He must look quite dumb, he realizes, slack-jawed and all that when, a couple of hours later, they replace the _major_ with _lieutenant colonel_. In the background Rodney smirks, looking so smug and accomplished and proud that John can't help himself flashing a smile back at him (okay, who did Rodney grill in order to let _this_ happen?) and for a brief moment there is nothing but the two of them.

_I didn't take Rodney up on his offer,_ John realizes once the ceremonies are over and he's not been kicked out of the military or off the Atlantis project, even if people are looking at him oddly, the omega in uniform and worn boots.

Nobody dares to corner him, to push him against the wall. If they try, John's hand twitches just so that they can see his fingers nearing the holster on his thigh and they realize that trying to claim him is just more trouble than it's worth.

* * *

They've been stuck on Earth for roughly eight days and fifteen hours when Rodney suddenly bursts into John's quarters, and John tenses for a millisecond before relaxing again, relieved that there's no emergency or need to salute to some general he barely knows.

The astrophysicist looks as if he's just won a Nobel. "We're going back to Pegasus!"

Apparently, the IOA thinks the best course of action is to let the expedition team remain there and battle the Wraith a safe distance from Earth (and who would have guessed). The men and women in suits probably haven't grasped the situation at all. They won't, unless the hives swarm over the Earth one day and the darts crisscross over the surface of the planet, and John's never going to let that happen.

"Thank god_, finally!_"

He's getting tired of paperwork and being glanced at in the hallways, and he misses the hum of the city and Teyla's company and the stars at night. His team isn't whole now. They've got to search for Ford, and the Wraith are still out there, waiting. So much to do, so many dangers, and yet he'd choose Pegasus over Earth any day. As long as Rodney's there beside him, it's all going to be fine.

"John, I was thinking –"

John smirks, "Whenever aren't you?"

"Shut up. I've had a chat with General Hammond. He doesn't dislike me as much as O'Neill so it was the easiest choice and, well, the point is, if we want to mate we've got a go, from the military and everyone. They won't take you away if we do, won't force you to leave Atlantis. I mean. If you still want to. With me." And Rodney looks so adorably nervous and fidgety that John decides to take pity on him before he hurts himself.

Honestly. John rolls his eyes. "And you're supposed to be the genius of two galaxies."

"So – that is a yes? Gods, _please, _John let it be a yes-"

He smirks then.

"Patience, McKay. My next heat isn't for another month, possibly more." The meds have thrown his heats totally off the circles, and he's talked with Carson about it; it'll be awhile before the cycles will be wholly predictable again. But that's fine. They have a city to rebuild, lives to settle back down in, hundreds of left planets to visit.

"I think I can handle the wait."

They're going home.

* * *

**Home** /həʊm/  
[noun]  
_a place for living;  
a place where something began and flourished;  
a place to belong_


	5. Calculating Curves No One Can Read: 1

_Author's notes: This is the second story in The John/Rodney Arc. Beware if you haven't read the warnings in the first chapter: there's alpha/beta/omega therefore slash and mpreg, and if none of this appeals to you please press the back button now. Includes mpreg._

_Story [II] summary: _

_"One day," John says at length. "But Pegasus isn't a safe place."_  
_"Then we'll make it safe," Rodney says - a promise._  
_Then he screws everything up by destroying three quarters of a solar system._

* * *

**Building Neutron Stars  
****The John/Rodney Arc:**

**II.  
****Calculating Curves No One Can Read**

* * *

**Calculate **/ˈkælkjʊleɪt/  
[verb – transitive]_  
discover a number or amount _  
_using mathematics;_  
_make a judgment about what is likely to happen or be true_  
_using the available information_

* * *

**Chapter One**

The journey back to Pegasus goes smoothly up till the point they discover a Wraith-manufactured virus is taking hold of the ship.

As with most of John's daredevil plans, Rodney protests very loudly because solar radiation and flying without navigational computers can only be very, very bad and very, very dangerous; Elizabeth expresses some doubts, shared by Caldwell, but in the end they let him go through with it and they _survive_. Flying in an F-302 with Rodney in the seat behind him is both thrilling and exhilarating and a little bit annoying because the scientist won't shut up about initial dampeners, but simultaneously the alpha admits that John is a damned good pilot and that the plan in the end was fairly good (for being the idea of a flyboy with crazy hair).

Albeit John suspects Rodney will keep complaining about his sunburn for the next three months. (But kissing makes him feel better.)

* * *

Atlantis is a sight for sore eyes.

Many of the piers are still out of shape due to flooding during the storm and gunfire the city taken during the recent battle. But the city is still there, sitting atop the water as a beacon of hope, and it's _home_.

No one expresses much surprise when they are beamed down from the Daedalus into the control room, not until John realizes that Rodney's hand has slipped into his and people have the dignity not to stare or question. But that's quite all right.

Teyla smiles knowingly at them both, happy for them, her support having greater weight than nearly anybody else's by now. They're a team and teammates stick together.

Nearly eleven weeks have passed by since the siege and so much and yet so little have changed. No one tells either alpha or omega directly, but the city appears brighter now they have returned. And John tells no one directly, but the gloom that Earth had caused to settle over him fades as soon as they rematerialize side by side.

* * *

One of the conditions of them sharing quarters is that John's Johnny Cash poster is to left where it is on the wall and Rodney is to have an exact space (four by five square feet in the corner) where he can keep his computers and equipment scattered on a desk – never mind the fact that he has a private lab, he needs to be able to work at any time (who knows when the next great breakthrough will occur?).

It's been three weeks, six days and sixteen hours since they left the Earth (out of which they spent three weeks aboard the Daedalus) when the last of Rodney's bags have been moved and unpacked. The reason they choose John's quarters is because it's perfectly situated near a transporter, from which they can reach both the labs and the gate room without issue. The private balcony with an astounding view of the cityscape doesn't hurt either.

"… and over there we could move in a couch. For movie nights; we could discretely borrow a screen from one of the abandoned labs in the outer edges of the city. And a cradle along the wall there."

John halts while in the middle of sorting out clothing (his BDUs in the top drawer, Rodney's _I'm With Genius _tee-shirts in the bottom one). The domestic feel of the scene hasn't really hit him until now.

"You really want…? I thought, well, you've never seemed to like kids that much," John asks, sinking down to sit on the mattress of the bed. Technically, it's two beds pushed together; they haven't spent much time in them yet (together). He's glad that Rodney understands and respects his wishes.

John is still a bit afraid of the moment that they will share the bed, properly, even if he also longs for it with a certainty he has desired anything else. It's the outcome, he guesses, that scares him. Can he really fulfill his duties as military commander of the base if he were to become pregnant? Would the marines accept it, their commanding officer carrying the child of the head of the science department (or anybody's child)? Will they still be able to follow orders of an omega without taunt?

"Of course I want them. Though well I'm not that good with kids, it's more the principle of the thing but I've had some time to think about it while on the Daedelus and, yeah, I need some heirs to carry on my legacy and all that, plus I've already made sure they'll have access to the world's best universities where they teach proper science-"

Rodney stops himself when he notices that his boyfriend (he assumes that they are even if they've never really coined the term) has sunk down into a sitting position, unusually quiet and contemplative. "You do, right? Um, or maybe you don't. John?"

John wants. He has wanted, for years. But there have always been too many boundaries, and he still can't quite believe that some of them are gone now.

"One day," he says at length. "But Pegasus isn't a safe place."

"Then we'll make it safe," Rodney says - a promise.

* * *

They search and search but there is no sign of Ford.

The claws of guilt won't let him go.

* * *

It takes a while to convince the man – Ronon Dex, Specialist (_Runner,_ Teyla had murmured, a bruise on her forehead) – to let him go and fetch Beckett. In exchange for their lives they'll give him freedom.

It's only fair.

* * *

Then, they realize that Ford is on the very same planet, looking to avoid them just as much as they're looking to find him.

Darts flying overhead, Ford stands with a gun in his hand. The planet has only an anonymous designation and has no name, no population, but still the Wraith are right on their heels as if searching. The tracking device once buried in the Runner's back has just been destroyed and the aliens must be confused, scurrying across the surface of the world. But when John halts in front of his old teammate, the Wraith are the least of his concerns.

Aiden won't come back to them, he says, refusing to lower his gun. Won't come back to Atlantis. Back _home._

"Ford!" John shouts, pleads. "There are people missing you, Ford. People back on Earth. People on Atlantis. We miss you, your team misses you. You can come back, Ford. We can help you."

John takes a step forward, but Ford shakes his head and throws himself into the dart's culling beam and out of sight.

It's not the defeat that brings John to his knees, but the conviction that he's utterly failed a friend and it takes many minutes for him to gather his breath and stand again.

* * *

Later, when Ford has vanished since long ago, Major Lorne breaks through the trees, Rodney on his heels, along with the Runner. John's astounded to see the man on his feet looking no worse for wear, like he hadn't had a knife near his spine forty-eight minutes ago.

John stares at the sky in despair. Rodney tugs on his arm, the darts whining; they have to move before things get worse.

It'd been so fucking close. So _close_ – why couldn't Ford realize they just want to _help_?

"That was your friend?" the ex-Runner asks, words short and simple.

John nods.

Then, as the man begins to walk away, he says, "Come with us." ignoring the astounded looks Rodney sends him.

* * *

"You're not – not interested in him are you? Oh my god. He's obviously your type. Very … brawny. Military sort of guy, big gun. That didn't come out right. Fuck, he's interested in you, isn't he, I saw how he looked at you earlier –"

Rodney scowls, nose wrinkling up as he studies the figure from the security footage. The man (who doesn't talk much) is being followed by two marines wherever he goes but it's just a precautionary measure. By the end of the week he'll have clearance and he'll make a good asset to their team. According to John.

The alpha can't for his life see that. The man is obviously all muscle and no brain and – gods, John _can't_ be thinking about cheating on him with that guy can he? Walk away before they've even mated, to be with … with _him_?

"_Rodney_," John sighs, "it's nothing like that!"

"Well sorry for being suspicious. He's obviously the kind who kidnaps people in their sleep and, and do things that are too horrible to consider. You're _my_ omega."

Something in his chest swells and contracts simultaneously, and John's cheeks heat up. It doesn't help that Rodney is having this outburst in his lab, uncaring that Radek is sitting two feet away squirming (John can't decide if the man is feeling pity for his predicament or is trying not to chuckle).

"Look, he's not my type, Rodney. I like geniuses with shockingly large egos, who can crack the codes of ancient tech with a snap of their fingers and understand Star Trek references – I doubt he could do that. _But_, he's a good warrior and tracker, and we need a guy like that on the team." Lorne has been substituting as their fourth member for a while now. All since Ford … since he left. But the major is more than ready to form his own team and someone else needs to take the role left behind. "It's for the _team_, Rodney."

"Yeah, well, whatever."

Knowing that this is as far as their conversation of the matter will reach today, John gestures at the whiteboard, the numbers scrawled across the surface. "Want me to help you look over those?"

* * *

Earth people are strange, Ronon reflects, making so much trouble over basic things and making everything so complicated with their rules.

Their customs are weird, the way they speak is bizarre (some of them never seem to get to the point) and their uniforms are unlike anything on Sateda. Their weapons are quite good, though. Effective and loud and they fit well in his palm, though nothing beats his own gun.

They glance at him when they think he can't notice, but the marines – that's what they call their soldiers – remind him of his battle brothers back home (_home_ – gone, lost, forgotten, alone), they're alright fighters, alphas with a few betas among them, strong and disciplined and trained for years.

There is an exception among the alphas though and Ronon cannot quite wrap his head around it at first. Why the hell have they sent an omega to a battle-front, risking losing him to the Wraith, especially if they have a whole planet untouched by the Wraith past the gate in the ancient city?

How come he's a commanding officer, Ronon isn't sure, because he's rarely encountered worlds where people would risk their omegas to partake in fights – other than training them to defend themselves, if the case was that they even struggled against the Wraith. (Too many people just ... give in.)

_Lieutenant Colonel_ they call his rank (making him think of his first Taskmaster, of hours of training under the hailing gunfire) albeit there are so many words unfamiliar to Ronon that the former Specialist doesn't bother keeping track of them all. What matters is that there's only one man, currently, that he respects enough to follow his orders and he doesn't care what his title is.

"We're a team," Sheppard had said and Ronon is still a bit bewildered at it all; that he's no longer a Runner (but his home world is lost, turned to ashes long ago and there's nothing to resurrect) and these people have taken him in, offered shelter and food and relative safety (because no place is truly safe).

Teyla helps in explaining some. He wonders at first if she's Sheppard's mate, her being alpha, but the scents and signs don't add up and then he meets Dr Rodney McKay for the first time – properly, not at gunpoint on an unnamed planet – and _realizes_. And he respects them enough to take his leave when he finds them in a corridor near McKay's lab (apparently he's the chief of science or something), pressed up against the wall with their tongues down each other's throats.

Which makes things even _weirder_, because the man, while alpha, isn't any kind of warrior; not the kind of man Ronon would expect would be up to the challenge to mate with Sheppard, who is brimming with stubbornness and energy, hardly a soul to easily be tamed and harnessed. Yet Teyla says the two are life-mates (even if they may not realize it themselves).

He's going to keep his eyes on them both. It's rooted into his spine, the sense of _duty_, and he's more than willing to watch out for Sheppard because Sheppard got them to take out the tracking device in his back. Sheppard freed him and stretched out a hand, giving him more than just the choice of fleeing into the wild, gate to some other planet without having to fear being followed by the Wraith.

Sheppard gave him the choice of a _home_. And Ronon took it.

Now, it is his duty as a solider of Sateda (even if the planet's ground has been burned to a crisp by the Wraiths' gunfire) and now a member of this team of 'Lanteans (they're not Ancestors, they keep insisting, but the city lights up in Sheppard's presence leaving no traces of doubt), to watch out for them. His team. And Sheppard being omega makes it even direr to protect him, even if the earthling himself loudly insists that there's no need, he's not a weakling.

Ronon can't explain to him properly that it has nothing to do with strength or weakness – there is so much these people do not understand or know. They're not from Pegasus. They haven't been raised under the Wraith's shadow.

Yeah, these people are weird and crazy, sending their omegas to the battle-fronts, but Ronon guesses he must accept this now, this new world, because there's no way else to go. Plus, he kind of likes them. Not everyone, of course, some of the scientists are really whiny and when the marines glare at him he glares right back. But Sheppard doesn't shy away from him and Teyla is good company as she, an Athosian, too is an outsider amongst the earthlings.

McKay, the final piece of the team, might just have to grow on him, he supposes. Even if the man talks a lot more than he uses his gun, so unlike any alpha Ronon's ever met. But for Sheppard to have accepted him as a mate he must be all right, strong and good enough.

(If else Ronon could always give him some elementary training like all alphas on Sateda are given, so that he can properly protect Sheppard. After all, a mate's safety always comes first.)

* * *

The dart is torn in two, unsalvageable, but John will be damned if the two lives carried within will be lost as well.

Because Rodney's in there.

_Rodney_.

The scientists struggle to comprehend the machinery for hours as John paces, his pulse rising with each step and his patience dropping, and he can't keep the thoughts of_ What if they cannot save him? What if I'm alone?_ wholly at bay.

Rodney _can't_ have left him alone –

"I think I've got it," Radek cries out then and a figure rematerializes, looking around dumbly for a moment before falls onto the grass.

"Rodney!"

John is there at his side in a flash. Carson checks for a pulse.

"He's fine," the doctor says, "but we need to get him back to Atlantis."

* * *

Captain Cadman is still stuck inside the dart's storage device. At least, that is what they believe until Rodney wakes, four hours later, a voice in his head.

"So … Cadman? Rodney? You okay, both of you?"

"Yeah. Gods, this is bloody annoying and _no,_ Cadman, we won't – not while you're in here! Uh, I'm hungry, could I have a sandwich and some jell-o? Of course jell-o! It's good!"

Not knowing to be amused or bewildered or wholly disturbed, John allows his alpha to talk to the voice in his head. Carson claims him to be all right. Except for the part he's got another conscious next to his own.

Normally John would have been hesitant about kissing and touching when a subordinate is nearby. But Rodney insists on holding his hand and there's not any real room for argument as John doesn't want him to let go. His heart hasn't really calmed down yet.

Then, suddenly, Rodney smiles, a secretive not-really-Rodney smile and John realizes that it's _Cadman_ smirking at him through Rodney's mouth. "If only you knew what he's thinking right now, sir, it'd be the kinkiest film you've ever seen." John controls himself enough not to blush. Barely. "Though I'd like to get out now."

"We're working on that, Captain. Don't worry."

"Appreciated," and it's Rodney again, still holding onto his hand.

* * *

As John shows Ronon around the base, Rodney won't let his omega out of his sight. It's not his fault that he's obsessive and pessimistic and what else is he meant to think when his omega is spending time with the rough ex-Runner?

_You know, _a voice quips in his head, earnest surprise in there, _I thought you were already mated._

_These things take time! _Rodney snaps back and really, Cadman has no right to see through his thoughts like that. It's _private_.

Besides, even if they were mated, he'd still not be comfortable about having that caveman too close to John.

_No wonder you have trouble with people, _Cadman says in his head and Rodney decides to keep quiet, for once.

* * *

Though uncomfortable with the thought of Cadman in his alpha's body, John does forgive her, in time, for making Rodney kiss him with unmatched fervour in front of half the base personnel right before they manage to separate them. There is a risk it'll be a failure and both of them will be lost and she wants to give them at least one last chance.

Having Rodney kissing Carson though, that causes John's guts to twist, even if he knows that while it's Rodney's body it's Cadman's kiss and he has no need to fear or be jealous. But still. Carson looks utterly baffled afterwards (John would have, too, if his first kiss with his interest was through a third person's body).

* * *

For the fifteen minutes that they have to wait, John is scared right down to the bone and he regrets being on those damned pills for so long. If he hadn't taken them, he might've been in heat weeks ago and he could've shared himself with Rodney if just once –

Then Rodney is back, just _his_ Rodney, and the next kiss is even better than the last and one thing leads to another –

"_Colonel Sheppard, Doctor McKay, this is Weir. We've found something we think you'd like to check out. Please report to the control room immediately."_

"Always something," Rodney sighs before tapping his earpiece and John manages to conceal a noise of displeasure by pressing his face into the crook of Rodney's neck.


	6. Calculating Curves No One Can Read: 2

**II.  
Calculating Curves No One Can Read**

**Chapter Two**

It's been four weeks, three days and five point three hours since they came back to Atlantis when John goes into heat. No suppressants are holding it off this time.

It's midnight and Rodney wakes up when hearing a dull thud of something falling. As soon as his eyes open, his senses are flooded with the scent of John and_ need comfort-warmth need not-enough want must-have_ _**please**_–

He finds the omega curled up on the bathroom floor, between the ancient version of a bathtub and the sink, arms wrapped tightly around himself, shivering. He's waited for so long for this, and being presented to the scenario so abruptly tilts his balance.

"Rodney," John whispers, hissing as Rodney draws near. His eyes are wide and pupils dilated and dark and he can't control the tremors working their way through his body. He feels empty and full of need and, oh gods, he doesn't want be left alone. Can't be left alone. Needs to be touched. Nothing can be enough.

"Oh god,_ John_." Rodney's hands come into contact with his skin and John buckles, trying to grind against him, make them touch. More. More, he needs _more_. The lights in the room flicker and dim and every fibre of his being hums. Everything is crystalline and hazy all at once and he grasps at anything for support - _Rodney, Rodney … !_

Rodney has enough sense left to lock the doors. Then John grabs him by the shoulders and drags them down onto the bed, climbing to sit across the alpha's thighs and they are quickly too lost with each other to think about lights or condoms or radios.

(Atlantis is humming at the back of John's head.)

* * *

"This okay?" the alpha whispers, entering him slowly and making a string of intangible noises of pleasure, oh gods John is so warm and perfect and nothing has ever felt this fucking good –

John tugs him closer, urging him to move, to stop hesitating. "I'm not a fragile doll, Rodney," the omega murmurs and lets Rodney lose all boundaries.

* * *

"Again. Please."

In the middle of _again_, the headset lying on the bedside table crackles to life with a question, but Rodney turns it off without a word, not able to handle any distractions at the moment.

* * *

"My mate. My John."

"Yeah," he whispers, stroking Rodney's cheek, "my mate. My Rodney."

The feeling rooted in his heart is not unlike how it imagines it to feel to be building stars.

* * *

Seventy-two hours later they turn on their radios again, announcing themselves to the world and at once, Elizabeth contacts them, a sharp edge of worry to her tone.

They've been locked up in their quarters for so long and the others had begun fearing an emergency – a slightly awkward, understanding silence settles once they explain that no one's been hurt or trapped by some ancient machine or anything like that (and _thank god _they never managed to crack the crystal panel and force the doors open).

They meet up with Teyla next morning in the mess hall to share breakfast. John eats twice as much as usual, downing two bottles of mineral water in a row but that is only to be expected; he's rested and exhausted all at once, dehydrated and hungrier than he can ever remember to have been. Both he's never felt so complete and fulfilled and _happy_. (He realizes then how strange and crazy he must have appeared, now when people know he's hidden as an omega for years and years, and always said no to a mating.)

Rodney never wavers from his side, not for a minute, the alpha's arm bumping his own as they sit side by side and if they can't stop glancing at each other, smiling secretly, well, John blames it on the hormones.

Teyla congratulates them in Athosian fashion, and offers a feast on the mainland if they wish to become life-mates and John grins in thanks; but Rodney becomes so horribly flustered at the idea of so many people celebrating the fact they've just had the world's most mind-blowing sex that the omega decides to take pity on him and tell Teyla that they'll, you know, think about it.

When Ronon appears ten minutes later, he doesn't say much as per usual, and the ex-Runner doesn't appear surprised at seeing their entwined hands and intermingled scents. But John thinks he can hear the mutter of _About damn time._

He couldn't agree more.

* * *

It's mean to be a simple mission, quick and peaceful, a chance to find more trading partners so that back on Atlantis they'll have food on the table for another day. It's like dozens of missions they've had for the last few weeks.

Only, the people of Olesia keep their gate without a dialling device on an island full of prisoners for the Wraith to feed on, and everything becomes so much more complicated after they find that out.

* * *

The jumper jolts in mid-air, nothing but forest for another mile. The whole craft tilts.

"Where the hell did _that_ come from?"

Shutting out Rodney's outraged cry, John avoids the next blast, and the next. Then the jumper shakes again, lights within it flickering and it heads downwards. John just manages to swear loudly before impact. The jumper crashes harshly, mere yards from the gate, rattling everyone within and he feels oddly worse than usual – he's crashed ships before (not on purpose), hell, he's crashed _jumpers_ before – but the initial dampeners must've been knocked out along with primary systems.

Last thing he remembers is seeing the ground curl up around the front of the ship and Rodney shouting his name.

* * *

Coming to, he finds himself sprawled over the consoles, Rodney avidly shaking his shoulder.

"… John! John, are you all right?"

His forehead aches; there must be a gash there, bleeding but not heavily. He's had worse. After a couple of seconds, his vision steadies to reveal a cracked windshield and a hand waving in front of his eyes.

"'m fine," he mutters, sighing as he leans back against Rodney's TAC vest - Rodney's presence steadies him more than anything (except he'd really like some Tylenol right now). "Not one of my better landings. Sorry."

"Oh great, he's hit his head." The alpha makes some exasperated noises. "Teyla, big guy …?"

"We're fine, Rodney," Teyla responds softly. Ronon only grunts.

They manage to get the jumper hatch open, Rodney's hand resting on his side, only to have a spray of arrows landing at their feet. At once they fall back. John raises his P90 immediately to return fire, crouching behind a fallen supply box near the hatch, his team taking up position around him.

An arrow pierces Ronon's leg and he breaks the shaft, tugging it out like it's nothing while Rodney looks at him like he's mad, continuing to shoot bolts of red toward the treeline. John can make out figures moving there – human, by the looks of it, not Wraith (which explains the lack of stun bolts).

Then another explosion lands on the left side of the jumper. So these people have both primitive bows _and_ some makeshift version of C4. Great.

"You know, this is not the way to make new friends!" John shouts over the gunfire.

"We need to get out of here," Rodney says, frantically, grabbing his arm and tugging backwards into the jumper, where they at least have _some _cover.

"The jumper's damaged and won't fly anywhere," John replies curtly. "We need to find our way back to the gate on foot."

Only they never get the chance. They're surrounded, men suddenly pouring out from the covers of the trees. Their clothing is dirty, makeshift and poor, just like their weapons, and definitely none of them has bathed in weeks. The team stands back-to-back, but even with their P90s they couldn't take all of these people down before they're full of arrows like needle-cushions, so John signals them to hold their fire. This could all be a big misunderstanding, and he's not fond of the thought of shooting down a bunch of innocent people (even if they don't _look_ all that innocent).

"Hi, folks," John says, trying to sound calm and relaxed so not to startle them. He doesn't miss the way Ronon's teeth are clenched, or Rodney's flickering gaze, or Teyla's finger resting on the trigger. "Uh, I hope I didn't crash land on anybody …"

A man steps forward, obviously a leader of some kind. He's tall with dark hair and he oozes of confidence. An alpha. The other strangers cow around him.

"Your ship. Can it take us through the ancestral ring?"

"You're referring the ship you just shot down?" Rodney answers sharply in an _Are you complete morons or just pretending? _tone, which could only make matters worse. "Yeah. It could have. If you hadn't _shot it down_ and completely fried its circuitry."

"Rodney," John hisses. "Just … shut up, all right."

The man eyes them, glaring at Rodney, in annoyance, and likewise at Ronon, who any alpha would consider a threat given the Satedan's looming shadow. He looks over at Teyla, sniffing the air and frowning when sensing she's an alpha and John realizes what he's doing. The man seeks to find the weakest link in the team, so that he may exploit it in order to – well, _something_.

Nostrils flaring, the man rounds up at him and John stares back; he's lowered his rifle but it still rests in his hands, and shooting the man or anyone nearby would take just a couple of seconds and they must be aware of that.

"That one. The omega. We'll take him."

Rodney cries out, raising his gun and stepping up, using half of his body like a living shield. "Fuck off, you backwater morons!"

Ronon, too, acts as soon as the words are out of the man's mouth, pointing his weapon at the man's forehead. "You won't touch him," he growls.

"Hey! Hey, calm down, everybody," John exclaims and, slowly, reluctantly, the Satedan lowers his gun; the P90 isn't entirely steady in Rodney's hands and John is pretty certain it's not just nerves. But if they struggle against the demands now, they could all be shot down and killed and who would that help? "What do you want?"

The man smirks, self-assured in his plan. "We're taking the omega as insurance. You fix the ship so we can leave, and then you'll have him back and you can all heave unharmed."

Rodney growls. Like _hell_ he'll let them take John away, god knows what they'll do; if they touch him he'll –

Incredulous, he stares before he can finish the thought when John for some mad reason _agrees_ to the terms because it's all crazy and dangerous and –

"I've got a plan," John murmurs, cutting him off. Well, he has. Sort of. "Don't worry."

* * *

None of the prisoners on the island count on John cutting his bonds and grabbing a nine mill and a radio strewn along with other stolen goods around the camp. He knocks the guard unconscious as they stare baffled, then runs the out through a backdoor while he hears the sound of an explosion far-off – the rest of the prisoners are amusing themselves by testing out various weaponry found in the fallen jumper. At least they aren't testing them out on him.

The escape is ridiculously easy. Perhaps because, while arriving armed, these people won't consider an omega a threat and if so, John plans to take full advantage of that.

One thing these people haven't learned it that one should _never_ underestimate an enemy.

* * *

By the time he finds the jumper, Rodney's working with the broken control crystals babbling all the while, muttered curses, and Ronon and Teyla are sitting on the ground in front of the open hatch, guarded by several of the prisoners who are holding P90s they've just stolen.

John kneels in the underbrush and checks his ammo. They're way overdue and Elizabeth will send a rescue any minute now; it's just a matter of waiting until the Stargate activates and then he can send a message through over the radio, on a safe frequency, and ask for backup, set up an ambush to free his team and get them the hell out of here.

Patience. That's all they need.

But Rodney's not very good with patience.

* * *

By the time a second jumper is sent from Atlantis, the Wraith have already arrived to begin culling, and Rodney has chewed the prisoners' leader's head off for being stupid and incompetent and he still hasn't managed to get the jumper into any sort of working order.

John manages to get radio contact with Lorne just in time. And as the island empties, the prisoners whooping as they rush through the gate to freedom, the enemy cruiser turns toward the mainland instead. For a moment guilt tugs at John for letting it happen, for having hundreds possibly thousands of people put at risk to free those two hundred prisoners from the fate at the Wraiths' hands. But there is no time to linger on the thought.

When they're all through and only his team remains, Lorne lands the cloaked jumper to pick them up. John relies the word and at last reveals himself to his team, approaching them with his usual grin, receiving relieved smiles in returns from both Teyla and Ronon as they pick up the discarded P90s the prisoners left behind. At once Rodney starts berating him for being stupid and heroic and fighting the guards ("It was just one man, Rodney, not an _armada. _By the way, did you forget I've destroyed entire Wraith hives before?" "With backup! And help! And proper weapons, not your bare fists!") to escape on his own, but he doesn't miss the relief_ (thank god, I thought, I feared they'd – John you idiot!)_ rolling off the alpha in waves.

The jumper carries them home, and John thinks that it's okay to let Rodney keep complaining, just this once. Ronon won't stop smirking and Teyla is merely rolling her eyes, albeit John takes pity on Lorne who looks utterly bewildered was the scientist's scolding grows more and more elaborate.

* * *

Being back on Atlantis after a mission - especially a mission such as this, which they've spent the majority of being shot at and threatened to be killed - feels good.

Now that some time has passed since the man's joined the team, Rodney decides it's time to face it and apologize. He's realized some things in the last couple of days, including the fact that he's paranoid (and obsessive and distrustful) but also that there might be a friendship – a great friendship, even – waiting for him if he could just let go of old prejudices and fears. John would never cheat on him, even if he has this Kirk air about him; he is far too loyal for that.

"I realize I've been acting like kind of a jerk and being all suspicious of you and well, I'm sorry, you're not that bad to be around and, well, what you did back there made me realize. That you're not that bad."

"I get it, McKay," Ronon says, the longest sentence he's put together within Rodney's hearing range since they first met; "You were just protecting your mate and thought I was going to take him away from you. But I have no such interest in Sheppard."

"Uh, right. Umm. Well, thanks. That's … that's good, that's very good to hear because I'm glad you're not interested in Sheppard because that'd be, well, not good. So I guess we're cool, right? Friends?"

Ronon just silently looks at him and Rodney guesses that's as close to a reply he'll get in the matter.

* * *

(Months later, after they've saved each other's lives and covered each other's backs in battle too many times to count, Ronon calls them _brothers _and some variation of the word in Satedan. And then Rodney finally understands the full meaning of the word _team_.)


	7. Calculating Curves No One Can Read: 3

**II.  
Calculating Curves No One Can Read**

**Chapter Three**

They've been in Pegasus for nearly two months.

He's starting to forget how difficult some things are on Earth, and how few things he misses of the planet that he was born on. Back on Earth, he has no family to speak of - none that he has been in contact with for the last fifteen years anyhow, and he's pretty sure no one back there misses him. This is a far better place, in John's opinion, even if they have to look out for life-sucking aliens on a pretty daily basis.

Nothing matches the rush of flying a jumper, guiding it with his thought, or stepping through the gate to yet another unexplored world, or finding something new hidden in the bowels of the city. Nothing is like discovering the stars.

And when things are relatively calm and they stay on the base for several days in a row, he can always spend time with Rodney in the labs, amusedly looking on as the scientists there argue over some calculations or something they've found in the database and light odd Ancient things up for them. He gets a plus in their book when he does that, even if Rodney doesn't like sharing.

John still remembers that time Rodney had been in the control room when suddenly he'd stood up, shouting over the radio, startling everyone in his vicinity – apparently someone had told him that his mate was helping Radek with an Ancient device and some calculations on it and well, Rodney had taken it all the wrong way. John had taken great amusement in watching him gape like a fish when he'd rushed down to find the Colonel and the Czech standing before a screen discussing algorithms and integrals and not doing anything of what Rodney had been fearing. Poor Radek might have been turned into shreds anyway, but luckily Major Lorne had passed by and helped John to separate the two scientists who were, in his honest opinion, being ridiculous (one of them anyway). Once everyone had calmed down again, John had added the finishing touches to the numbers on screen and gotten the device working and then taken Rodney to the mess for some coffee.

(Coffee always helps the alpha to calm down.)

But despite all this and other incidents in the past, things like these are easier in Atlantis than on Earth. On Atlantis there is always the risk they'll be attacked by the Wraith or some other enemy, and the concern it creates distracts people and they worry more about _living_ than about making up illusionary threats to their love-life.

At first, John thinks this a good thing. Rodney's worried and paranoid enough as it is. There is no need to add fuel to the fire.

* * *

After they've received the regular body check-up at the infirmary after coming back from yet another run-in with unruly locals – nothing but bruises and gashes, nothing broken - Carson pulls him aside for another test, carried out in solitude as the rest of the team are cleared to leave.

John blinks in surprise as comprehension dawns.

"But I haven't felt any symptoms, no morning sickness or anything, no nausea … maybe a couple of headaches, come think of it," he says, surprised. Not having any earlier experience to rely on gives him no footing in the matter. Fear and apprehension and joy wells up in his heart, not unlike the first time he and Rodney kissed, the first time they touched. "How far…?"

(Since that night when they mated, he and Rodney haven't been able to stop touching.)

"Then you're one of the lucky ones," the doctor smiles. "I'd say you're about three weeks along."

Silently, in awe, John lays a hand on his belly – there's been no noticeable change, and three weeks means that the embryo is too small to be of any significance even during a scan. They already have an ultrasound scanner amongst the infirmary equipment, Carson assures him, but he won't need one until somewhere around the sixth week or later, and as the doctor says it, it feels a whole other lifetime away.

_He's carrying a baby. _

And then, he's struck by fear – he's military and military aren't expected to become pregnant, to leave the battlefield because of a child. He's the military commander of this base but from now on he might just become a burden.

But even if he hides it for a while longer, in order to do his job unhindered and not be treated with more mutters behind his back, there is one person who deserves to know.

John means to tell Rodney at once, but radios begin to crackle with excited messages and with a thank-you and apologetic look to the doctor, John rushes down to the control room.

Already something new in need of exploration has been found. Everyone is so busy already even if they've just come home again.

He means to tell Rodney at once, but the scientist is gleefully talking about tracking an odd signature deep in space, on some planet they've never visited, possibly the remains of an ancient outpost – something they must find right away. Everyone is excited and anticipating and if he tells the news now, they might just ground him to the city, leaving him here alone while Rodney leaves to discover whatever could be waiting on the surface of the planet.

Or worse, they might decide to send him back to Cheyenne, because it's safer there, because on Earth he could carry a baby to term without the constant dangers present in Pegasus, because trapped on Earth others could take control – he cannot let that happen. Cannot let them separate him from Rodney, not now (not ever). The IOA and the Generals back on Earth could call him back without needing excuses to do so, but he needs to discuss the matter with Rodney first because he's the father and his mate and it's his right to know.

Carson is sworn to confidentiality. Even if the doctor will be displeased, he can and will hide it. Not forever, just for a time, (a little while); John just needs time to think and tell Rodney before he can announce it to anyone else. Decide what to do. Wait just for a little while.

So he lets the thought just … slip away.

* * *

Wreckage after dozens of Wraith ships slowly orbit the planet, void of life, but the energy readings, faint as they are, are enough for McKay to convince them to land. And any possibility of a weapon against the Wraith is always good enough to check out, in John's book.

Doranda is a dead world, covered in ashes, but they realize why too late – far too late.

* * *

When the weapon first overloads and they lose one of the scientists, Rodney still keeps insisting that _he can fix it_, that it's useful, that they _need_this weapon operational – and maybe they do. Maybe it's the one thing that in the end can defeat the Wraith and also provide them with a new unlimited power source and solve all the problems of the Pegasus galaxy.

But what should the cost be? How many people are they ready to lose?

He might have told Rodney about the baby that day, but there are funeral arrangements to be made, another casket – this one is not empty; only a small remorse – to be sent through the gate and he sees Rodney only briefly, rushing to and fro with a datapad in hand without the time to pause.

* * *

It's been well over a week since the discovery of the Ancient outpost. Since he got back the results from the pregnancy test. (Carson has urged him again and again to come to a decision else someone will realize the truth soon and take away the decision from him.)

John means to tell Rodney of the tiny life sparked inside of him, just as they're given the go for another test-run.

Before the words are out of his mouth Rodney's occupied with readings from another datapad and yelling at Radek for some mistake and gulping down more coffee, and eventually John just sighs and lets him be; some other day will do, some other hour, once – _if_ – the weapon is up and running. Then they will have a new weapon to fight against the Wraith. Then they will have time. Then.

_The risks are too great,_ many of the scientists mutter, eyes roaming the data and Elizabeth is hanging onto their words with knotted fists. There's a reason why project Arcturus was abanonded. But Rodney claims he can fix it. That he can do it. Eventually he manages to convince her of that too.

And John _hopes_, while trying to recall the last time Rodney and he had a decent conversation without being interrupted by beeping ancient machinery and mute numbers on a screen (nine days, eighteen hours, twenty-seven minutes, eight seconds, forever.)

* * *

As all the scientists are shipped off-world leaving just the two of them behind to test the weapon a final time, the power-levels keep rising and the weapon won't be shut off and Rodney stands there, bravado in his hands, so stubborn and excited and boosted to the sky with ego.

Rodney just won't _listen_.

Not until John grabs his shoulders, glaring at him coldly – he doesn't scream; his stare is what makes Rodney understand that this is bad, this is going to kill them all if they don't shut down the weapon right _now_.

The alpha goes on about possibilities and smartness and his chance to prove things, his chance to show them, _his chance to_ –

"_Jealousy_? That's what this is about? You want to prove that you're smarter than all of the Ancients and your science teams – _that's_ what you're risking our lives and _my trust_ for – just to satisfy your ego?" John hisses.

He would have meant to tell him of the truth then, just to make Rodney see sense, but alarms are going off wildly and the gun won't stop spewing deadly bolts through the atmosphere. They could be stuck underground, no place to run.

"I can get it under control, just give me a second!"

"No, you _can't_! McKay! _McKay, __**listen to me**_! I've seen this before, Rodney," he growls, face inches from the alpha's; "Pilots who wouldn't eject because they were so certain they could fix whatever was wrong, they'd stay and press useless buttons _right_ until the craft hit the ground!"

Rodney freezes up. Like it hasn't struck him before now, what he's breaking.

Wide-eyed, Rodney jerks back from the computer, in a daze, and then, finally, he agrees.

_They have to get out of here._

* * *

They cannot shut the weapon off. Overload is inevitable and then the whole planet will disappear.

* * *

While the omega rushes the jumper toward the gate, Rodney's babbling in the co-pilot seat; explanations and useless apologies and demands - John shuts him out because he has to.

* * *

John had meant to tell him about the baby, but then Rodney screws everything up by destroying three quarters of a solar system.

* * *

"…while you put the lives of others at risk! You blew up _three quarters_ of a _solar system!"_

"It was five sixths and it was uninhabited –"

Being yelled at by Elizabeth for his idiocy creates paper cuts on Rodney's body, but it's nowhere near the aching wounds he himself made when he ignored John's words in favour for his own hubris. And he's so scared that he's lost him, broken their bond beyond repair. They aren't just mates for a season, Rodney doesn't want him just because he's an omega to fill his bed, but Rodney honest-to-god _loves him_ and if he's ruined that – if John doesn't trust him anymore, if he _hates_ him …

* * *

Teyla and Ronon return from a trading mission, arms full of new supplies and food, to find them in shambles, words stilted and cold, the catastrophe yet clinging to their skin.

Rodney has locked himself up in his lab and John has blocked his access to their (or what was theirs, at least) quarters, busying himself training with the marines in the gym, wrestling them down with a shockingly raw force.

Everyone holds their breath, waiting for the storm to settle.

John won't look Rodney in the face for three days and eight hours and forty-two minutes.


	8. Calculating Curves No One Can Read: 4

**II.  
Calculating Curves No One Can Read**

**Chapter Four**

"You're _pregnant_? Why the hell didn't you tell me earlier?!"

"You were too busy nearly _killing_ _us_, I never really had the chance and I'm sure as hell you were too busy to _listen_ in any case. But next time we're about to get vaporized in order to satisfy your ego, I'll be sure to warn you beforehand that _oh and_ _yeah, I'm having your baby_," John retorts tightly and nearly regrets it when seeing the hurt flashing across Rodney's face.

But Rodney has to _understand_ that he nearly broke them apart that day, when he wouldn't listen, when he was too wrapped up in his selfish need for acknowledgement and glory – for those three days afterwards, he'd been on the verge of tearing himself apart, close to just dialling a random world and walk away, just to get away from the memory of Rodney's exploiting of his trust. Rodney has to _see_.

"But, I – okay. I was wrong and you were right and I should've listened. I'm sorry, John. But I'll be right about things, without exception, effective immediately." The words cause his lips to twitch and he nearly smiles; gods, he's missed Rodney, missed his so fucking much. "Okay, that was a joke. A joke. I mean, I'm positively right about ninety-five per cent of everything, but – I, I hope you haven't lost all faith in me. Or your trust. At the very least, I … I hope I can earn that back."

"That may take a while," John murmurs. But he doesn't want it to. He wants to be able to trust Rodney with his life but if Rodney was able to do that, ignore him just to prove that he's best, then …

He hesitates.

And Rodney deflates then, shoulders sagging. "I hate fighting with you."

"I know." _Me too._

They don't kiss – just, almost - as they embrace for the first time in far too many hours.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry …_

* * *

The bump is barely visible under his BDU. After he'd told Rodney and feels certain again, he lets Elizabeth and his team know; it is only right and it's only a matter of time anyway before they would've figured it out on their own. Besides, she can help dealing with the people back on Earth because it's inevitable that one day they'll know too.

The rest of the base quickly follows.

A small uproar arises when they realize he's five weeks pregnant by now. The marines look confused as what to do, orders clashing with instinct. Someone mutters about having him quit going on off-world missions, about sending him back to Earth, but John meets all glares and words with steel of his own, and the whispers eventually quiet down.

Thankfully Teyla acts no different than before, as always her calm, concerned, battle-ready self. She offers, after John explains the whole deal with omegas in the military and Earth's views on the matter and how the IOA might get involved, to let him come to the mainland if they forbid him to go on off-world missions, to have the baby amongst the Athosians. He's not sure how to responds to that.

Ronon is tenser, hesitant to spar with him but when the big guy goes soft, John uses it to his advantage and for the first (and possibly last) time defeats him while sparring in the gym. After that, the Satedan eases up, realizing while he's a pregnant earthling omega, he's also a trained soldier who will still (attempt to) kick his ass at any given opportunity.

But Elizabeth voicing her concerns about him going on off-world missions by the time he enters his eight week is just ridiculous.

Then Rodney glances at him in hope and concern and, with a sigh, John eventually surrenders, making a deal with his mate not to leave Atlantis once he'll have lost the mobility to be able to fight properly, setting no certain dates as of yet. He'll have to make arrangements. Someone else must fill out his spot on the premiere Atlantis team eventually, even if the thought doesn't suit him well, and he's not comfortable with being stuck with paperwork for the rest few months – but, at least no one has questioned his spot as the military commander of the expedition yet.

It's not ideal – nothing ever is – but at least it soothes Rodney a little (if just a little) and he'll stop pestering him about it (for a while). The alpha would probably prefer it if he wouldn't leave the base starting _now_, but John can't let himself be tied down.

He's always been afraid of being tied down.

* * *

Something flickers in-between the trees, fleeing out of sight – into a darkened cave. As their flashlights fall upon the figure's face, they all take a reeling step back.

Wraith. Only, she's dressed like a human, with the face of a sixteen-year-old, and she looks utterly terrified, clinging to a man she calls her father.

"Please, don't shoot! She's not what you think," the man pleads.

"She's _Wraith_," Ronon growls.

"She's different from the other _daimos_. When the ship descended from the sky, she was just a child … she's just a child. Please. She's not dangerous."

Then, later, once they have lowered their guns (but Ronon cannot be convinced to set his from kill to stun even by Teyla), the man claims to have cured her from the need to feed.

* * *

After some debate, they take Carson with them to the planet to examine her. There is a possibility, however slim, of creating a cure of some sort. A weapon. A victory. The doctor is guarded by Ronon and should be okay, but concerned voices are raised; he's both omega and their best physician. But John sides with the doctor – if the Wraith girl can answer just a single question on Wraith physiology then, perhaps, Carson can create something to defeat them.

While the doctor goes to the cave, John – and Rodney, on the alpha's insistence because he refuses to leave him alone now, constantly shooting looks at him as if to make sure he's not going to dissolve - return to the village. There's still a second, adult Wraith out there, somewhere that they need to find and they must explain somehow to the villagers without giving away Ellia, the girl.

* * *

They find a withered corpse in an alleyway.

"This is … bad," Rodney mutters, as discretely as possible (which being Rodney isn't that very discrete) as the furious, scared villagers swarm around them. "Really, really bad. Zaddik was telling the truth after all. Which means -"

"We're not screwed, McKay," John cuts in. "It's just one Wraith. We've faced far worse than that."

Their leader approaches, his face dark.

"Colonel Sheppard," he greets, eyes travelling downward and John unconsciously draws his arms in to rest on his P90, hanging protectively over his belly. But there is no comment on the bulge, even if the man and half the people of the village probably can sense his omega scent. "Has there been any progress with the hunt?"

"We're working on it," John answers vaguely at the same time as Rodney says, "None whatsoever."

"Maybe we could help."

Rodney looks incredulous, which surprises John none given the fact that these people have never used a Stargate – theirs orbits the planet - and don't have flashlights, so it's not easy for the alpha to get any hopes up on the kind of effective, technologically advised help that he'd prefer. But the scientist also severely lacks subtlety. "Help us with what, running around in the forest with your pitchforks? Oh yes, that would help us all for sure."

"What he's _trying_ to say is that we can handle it," John fills in smoothly, trying to copy Teyla's perfectly calm negotiator tone of voice that always seems to soothe people, because there's a dangerous flash in the man's eyes and around them people are muttering. "Just be patient. We've dealt with the Wraith before – we'll take care of it."

* * *

Then Ellia gets her hold on the prototype retrovirus and as the adult Wraith stands above Rodney, ready to feed, she leaps on it with a feral cry. A spray of bullets hits them both. A neck is twisted and broken. Rodney lies frozen on the ground for a moment, unable to comprehend. Carson is lying in a brush, casually thrown aside, unable to make any coherent noise.

Feet come crashing through the undergrowth and Ronon's gun firing alongside Teyla's P90; they pull the scientist to his feet and help Carson to take cover.

Rodney looks around in a daze. "Where's Sheppard?"

"I think he headed back to the village, to warn them," Teyla says between bursts.

"And you let him go _alone_?!"

The Wraith girl – except she's something else now, more of an Iratus bug and nowhere near a human – snarls and leaps away.

* * *

When hearing the creature's eerie shrieks, John turns around, back to the cave. He's not as good a tracker as Ronon but Zaddik hasn't hidden his trail at all as he's gone to seek his adoptive daughter.

When he gets there, the man is dying, coughing blood. John kneels beside him. The bruising is severe, he could have internal injuries and while being no doctor, he's seen enough men die on the field to know that he doesn't have much time left. He hasn't been fed on, but beaten and clawed at as if the girl has turned into an animal.

She jumps out from the trees and he manages to put thirteen bullets into her but she falls down on him alive nonetheless, and as his back his the ground he has no time to worry or fear. Her grip is like iron, holding him down as she seeks to get a grasp on his chest, an imitation of feeding with her claws. His knife is inches from her neck.

Red suddenly spreads out from her back and she falls back, allowing him to roll over and onto his feet, grabbing his handgun. In the few seconds it take to get up, Ronon has shot her again, stunning her, and John puts two more bullets in her head before she stills.

Ronon lays a hand on his back. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

Body sore by the impact as she'd attacked him earlier, and knowing Ronon's too stubborn to do otherwise, he lets the Satedan lead him back to the rest of the team, a hand on his arm, steadying him. There's blood trickling down over his elbow.

* * *

Rodney won't stop hovering or chattering.

"- and running off like that on your own? You could've been killed! And what about the baby?! Oh my god, could you _ever_ stop running off on suicide missions! You thought you could handle it, didn't you, Kirk? Except if Conan hadn't come to rescue you would've been _eaten _and left me a widow!"

"Rodney, please, just, cut it out for a moment and let me concentrate on flying."

(It's a wonder that Teyla and Ronon haven't shut themselves in in the jumper's back compartment yet to escape the raised voices.)

"Fine," the alpha harrumphs, no more words needed to show his displeasure. "But once we're back on Atlantis –"

"You're going to grill me, fine, I'm aware of that."

This shouldn't have to be normal, yelling at one another. Nothing of this should be considered and _accepted_ as normal. The seams haven't been wholly mended yet and they both know it. And dread fills John as he wonders what'll happen if, when, they run out of thread.

* * *

His back and side are bruised, and his muscles sore. But the wound on his arm, which sure stung as hell when Ellia dug her claw in, has healed by the time they get back to base and immediately Carson takes a blood-sample and puts him through a series of tests, to make sure nothing's out of the ordinary. John rolls his eyes but allows it, because arguing with a doctor is often just a waste of time and, besides, Rodney wouldn't stop pestering him.

But the baby is all right as far as they can tell. Carson suggests it's time to do a proper scan, but John doesn't want to do it alone.

* * *

Both of them open their mouths at the same time to apologize. John for taking matters into his own hands and shouting and keeping secrets; Rodney also for selfishly thinking he can fix things on his own, and for yelling and screwing up and generally being a dick as of late.

John considers a makeshift date with dinner in the mess hall and game of chess and racing remote controlled cars on the east pier. Rodney considers building spaceships.

"Will we be OK?"

"Yeah. We will. (One day.) I promise."

* * *

The first moving pictures coming from the scanner are vague and blurry, and John stares at the screen for a long while having some difficulty breathing.

Then the room is filled with the dull thuds of its heartbeats, and Rodney's face is filled with light and tenderness and love as he whispers, "Oh my god, that's _our baby_, John."

* * *

Next day, feeling refreshed after finishing his morning jog along with Ronon, John gets called down to the infirmary.

"What is it, doc?"

"I got the results back from the blood sample I took yesterday," the doctor says, typing open the results on a screen for him to see. Frowning a little, John steps closer to read what it says. He doesn't know that much about medicine, but something's clearly wrong here. "I found traces of the retrovirus in your system."

"… Her claw. When she attacked me," John realizes.

It has accelerated the healing process and explains why he's able to outrun Ronon because he normally never is able to, even at his best. He doesn't realize exactly what this means though or how bad it is, when the doctor immediately tells him to lie down and they discover that there's no trace of the bruises anymore.

And on his arm, where the wound had been, there's a small odd mark, bluish and dark – it must've appeared during the night, because John can't recall seeing it before.

Carson looks at him apologetically before calling for Elizabeth over the radio.

John grabs his wrist before the doctor can turn away. "Carson, the – the baby. Will it be okay?"

"I don't know, lad," the Scot says uncertainly. "It seemed fine during the scan. Risks are that the foetus too has been infected through its blood system."

"But you can find a cure? Right? Doc?"

He gets no reply, because the doctor is too busy talking to Elizabeth and rushing to alert the nurses and John curses that he didn't bring a radio so he can't talk to Rodney and tell him that _everything's fine, really, there's nothing to worry about_ (except there is).


	9. Calculating Curves No One Can Read: 5

**II.  
Calculating Curves No One Can Read**

**Chapter Five**

After two days, he's put into quarantine, his eyes a molten yellow.

His memories – later, once he's woken up again – are blurry but he can sharply recall the distinguished instinct to _protect_ and, unable to recognize them as anything but a threat, he attacks two marines as they deliver food to his cell. Shrieking, fists bare. He doesn't know why they hesitate to fire. They fall down so easily and once they're unconscious on the floor, John backs up in a corner, for a moment the human in his head taking over the beast.

By the time a whole group of doctors and soldiers armed with tranquilizers, John is just standing there in confusion and horror or what he's done, and he lets them take the bodies – _oh god, don't let him have killed them_ – without fight.

* * *

Rodney can't take his eyes off the security recordings.

The whole left side of John's body has changed colour and he can't tell if he's human anymore.

In the background, Carson is explaining what the retrovirus is doing, how it's turning John to a creature more like an Iratus bug than a Wraith, how he's becoming wild and untameable and how the baby must be going through the same shocking progress. How it's getting more and more difficult for John to grasp his humanity and remember anything at all.

But Rodney listens with only half an ear. They haven't let him in to see his mate yet.

How easily he almost kills those two men is a shilling display of raw strength. To protect the child, Carson reckons. All instinct. No remembrance. John has trained with those two marines, sparred with them in the gym and worked with them for months, John knows them (even if Rodney doesn't know their names), yet he shows no signs of having any memory as he attacks them.

Oh god, the baby. They can't tell if it's all right, if it's human or starting to become a Wraith or something else entirely, and they can only hope that the curse Carson is making can reverse it. In theory it should, but the shock of altering its very DNA while still in the womb could easily lead to a miscarriage and Rodney chokes at the thought.

It can't happen. Not now. Not _ever_.

Fuck, he should never have let them go on that mission. Never have let him rush off on his own, to be all heroic and face Ellia. He should've urged him to go back through the gate and wait while they sorted it out. Should've –

* * *

"Let me see him."

"Rodney," Elizabeth says, softly, "you see how … how John is acting. He doesn't recognize us anymore."

"I don't care. He's my mate. I _have to_."

* * *

John doesn't attack him, nor does he approach, he just stands there staring with eyes formed into thin slits as he sniffs the air, and Rodney holds his breath.

"Hey – John. You recognize me, John?"

But the omega doesn't speak or attack or move or anything for a good long while. Eventually, he tilts his head, like an affirmative, and then trembles as if by an inner struggle. Rodney calls his name again and, gods, his mate's some kind of Wraith-like _bug_ –

"We're going to fix this. We're working on it. Hold on."

A promise.

* * *

By the time Carson has developed a way to purge the retrovirus from his body, John has been under quarantine for four days, no one allowed near, not even doctors unless they're under heavy escort. Not after his instincts once overrode all other orders and he pressed Carson against the wall with a steel grip, his hand forming a claw, as the doctor had come down to examine him again.

All John had sensed then – when he hadn't been John, but something else, a creature, an _animal_ – was someone nearing and danger and the fear of being trapped, and the fear of someone harming the life within him. Nothing was stronger then but the drive to protect the baby.

After that, the doctor always come surrounded by a dozen heavily armed marines. They would have stunned him to keep him still but they don't dare now, unable to wholly predict how he'd react to that, how the baby would react. The risks are too great. So Carson approaches slowly, an image of calm, backing him into a corner.

The few times he's able to break through his animal state, he stands still, because that part of him can still trust the doctor and the marines.

But a bigger part of him isn't able to properly recognize Carson as a friend or Elizabeth as someone important anymore, and the marines are all just shadows without names. Teyla is there, elusively in the background, out of the corner of his eyes, but she hadn't been a direct danger like the rest (later, Carson assumed it was because of the traces of Wraith DNA in the Athosian that allowed them to connect without him attacking).

Rodney though, is so familiar, his scent heady with _mate_ and _safety_ and Rodney is the one who holds him when Carson injects him with the cure, because the human inside the creature cannot ever consider him to be a threat.

* * *

Vaguely, John remembers being angry and panicked when the needle pierced his skin and of Rodney's hands, steady and strong and a voice babbling soothingly over his head (he hadn't understood the words at the time and later he doesn't remember them).

* * *

Once the changes have settled, John is still unconscious, tranquil and peaceful in sleep, all wrinkles of worry smoothed out, but Carson runs another ultrasound scan anyway while Rodney sits on the bedside, unusually quiet, holding John's hand. It's human and normal again. All John. Benign. Familiar.

"Well?" he demands, releasing the breath he's been holding.

"It appears to be fine, which is a miracle in itself considering all that's happened," Carson says, exhaling too. "The drug shared in the foetus' blood system. There, you can see, there's its head." It's still too early to determine the gender of the child and anyway, it feels somewhat wrong to search for such information when John isn't aware to share it, so Rodney doesn't press Carson to find out.

It's so _tiny_.

And it lives, the baby lives, and John lives, and everything's going to be okay now.

Everything is going to be okay.

"You should go and rest, Rodney," Carson says and a wave of exhaustion rolls over him then, as he realizes he hasn't slept for forty-eight hours, surviving on coffee and stimulants and tasteless dry sandwiches and he probably looks twice as bad as he feels. But he can't just walk away and leave John alone.

He's made a promise.

"I can't leave – I need to be here, when he wakes up. Go right ahead and drug me if you want but I'm not leaving his side willingly."

The doctor sighs but gives in, understanding. "Very well. It shouldn't be too long now. But once he's woken you really need to sleep, Rodney. Now, I must tell Elizabeth and the others. Is it all right if Teyla and Ronon come and see him?"

They've been hanging by the door for the past two hours, anxiously, and Rodney nods. They're a team. They're family (at least he figures Teyla will have no problem being called aunt sometime in the future).

When the two arrive, they don't exchange any words, there are none necessary, and Teyla lays a hand on his shoulder and Ronon pats his back. Rodney doesn't look away from John's face.

Everything's going to be okay.

* * *

An hour later, John opens his eyes. They're hazel again.

"Hey."

"John?"

"Yeah. It's – it's me. I." Suddenly, he sits, or tries to but he's hooked up to wires and his whole body protests so he lies back down again, listening to his own pulse through the machinery. "Rodney, the baby –"

"It's okay, Carson examined you and you're both okay and human. You're okay."

"Fuck. I'm sorry."

Rodney doesn't ask what for_._

John looks over at him properly for the first time, noticing the dark rings under his eyes and the small frown and he strokes Rodney's hand back, thumbs bumping. "You look like shit."

"Oh, thanks. I wasn't the one who was a _bug_ two days ago."

"Two days?"

"Well, more precisely one and a half," Rodney says. "The conversion back to normal took a while. You've been unconscious the whole time, hooked up to all sorts of carefully measured drugs to keep you stable. The baby made things … complicated, but it all worked out, in the end."

"How long was I…you know…?"

"About a week. Carson worked his ass off to – to fix it."

"Yeah. I guess I owe him a beer."

"Carson drinks beer? And wait a moment; you're _not_ going drinking, not in your condition –"

John laughs, albeit his chest hurts at the effort. For the moment he can believe that everything's going to be okay.

* * *

The ancient battle-ship looks dead and abandoned, torn by heavy fire and brutal battles fought long ago. Having been dormant for too many lifetimes to remember, Aurora wakes suddenly as the city calls it back.

Unfortunately, the Wraith have heard its subspace beacon too. Between the nearing enemy cruises and the over two hundred ancients in stasis aboard there is little time to argue about decisions.

* * *

"It's perfectly safe."

"Which is why _I_ should go."

"What?! No-no-no-no, you're _not_ going!"

John looks at him, recalling every argument and heated words and the promises whispered in-between. He would've won this time, if not for both Teyla and Ronon agreeing with the scientist, who lowers himself into one of the pods.

* * *

For thirty-five minutes all John can do is pace and wait while Caldwell relies over radio the position of the Wraith cruisers. There isn't much time – but if the ancients in the vessel carry vital information and knowledge … they cannot just pass up the opportunity.

Only Rodney won't get out of there.

Maybe he _can't_.

There's a Wraith hooked up to the virtual environment that Rodney's trapped in, and he can't continue waiting now they know this, cannot keep pacing.

"John, you shouldn't," Teyla says, grabbing his arm as he turns on the empty pod with a wave of his hand, the technology humming in his head. "Rodney said we didn't know whether it could harm the child –"

"Look, I need to help him. He's – he's my mate, Teyla, I can't just leave him in there."

_I can't lose him, _are the unspoken words, _he's the father of my baby and the second half of my soul and I can't lose him._

She lets go of his arm. He lets go of himself.

* * *

Everything in the virtual reality – or system or environment or whatever it is to be called – is pale and still and quiet, the ship's power running in a loop, having been in a standstill for hours or maybe years.

Rodney's sitting cross-armed in a cell when John flickers into being right outside the bars, startling the guards, and in the few seconds that it takes to take in all this information, the guards have called for reinforcements over radio and backed him into a corner.

It's so strange, how _physical_ everything feels, like it's actually _reality_ except John knows for sure that it isn't. Foreign cloth brushes against his skin. He has a pulse, but there are no smells. For a moment he forgets to breathe as he lays a hand on his abdomen, until he feels the swell, warm with life beneath his fingertips and even though that also may be part of the illusion, it's a little comforting. The guards are still pointing something at him – maybe some kind of weapon (would they even work here? Could weapons harm him when they weren't real?)

Rodney cries out his name, on his feet at once.

"How did you get here? Who are you?" one of the guards asks repeatedly, utterly confused.

"I've already told you, we're from outside," Rodney cuts in, raising his voice, before John can answer. "I tapped into your virtual environment to have a chat, and, John,_ what the hell_ are you doing here, have you no common sense at _all_?! I specifically gave you an order not to come!"

"I chose to ignore it, besides you don't exactly have the authority to give me orders. You couldn't get out -"

"_Wouldn't_ being the operative word, Colonel. The Captain has information that I need to know, something about a Wraith weakness that could help us win the war. Only these folks don't seem to quite comprehend the fact that _this_ isn't, well, _real_ …"

"Rodney, listen to me! There's a Wraith aboard, impersonating one of the Ancients. We have to _get out_."

* * *

Aurora's self-destruct leaves nothing to be salvaged, but at least the Wraith won't get their hold on the ancient hyperdrive systems, nor have they realized that Atlantis still stands.

* * *

"We're going to be fathers."

He sounds scared.

"Atlantis isn't the right place for a baby," Rodney continues and John shudders against him. This is the longest they've held each other all since the disaster with project Arcturus_ - _he's lost count of the days.

He doesn't often voice his fears, and John thinks he might be afraid of _speaking_ of fear so it takes a moment to let the words form for Rodney's ears.

"Don't let them send me back to Earth."

"I won't. I won't ever let them do that."

(A promise.)


	10. Calculating Curves No One Can Read: 6

**II.  
Calculating Curves No One Can Read**

**Chapter Six**

Just as he enters his fifteenth week, word reaches them from one of Teyla's off-world contacts. It's supposed to be a peaceful talk, an exchange of information, as they trust Teyla and Teyla trusts her contacts to speak the truth, so John doesn't bring any extra ammo.

But people can be bought for money, and trust abused, and words misleading.

* * *

The planet is meant to be uninhabited and neutral, but they find themselves as gunpoint. Blindfolded and bound they're led through the Stargate without knowing the address.

Ford – _alive_, his life eye dark and wrinkled, his chuckle hinting at madness – lays a hand on his shoulder as if they were friends, as if they still know one another. But looking at Ford's face now, John is saddened to realize he can only see a stranger.

The young man smiles at them all and says that _it's okay,_ _you're among friends,_ and no one will be harmed as long as they follow his plan. As long as they follow orders and take the enzyme, laced in the food and flowing through the veins of every man in the room, surrounding them.

"Congratulations! You just had your first dose."

Rodney's on his feet at once, yelling; Teyla acts a lot calmer but on the inside she's furious too, John can sense it from a mile off. The temperature of the room is rising and Ronon is close to breaking someone's bones.

"Look, Ford, I know what you're trying to do," John cuts in in the middle of Rodney's tirade, hoping for the alpha to calm down before he causes himself a heart attack. Even if he doesn't know everything that Ford's trying to do, because the man is not completely sane. "But this isn't going about it the right way. What would drugging the premiere gate team prove? Weir will never listen to us when we're hooked up on the enzyme. No, the best way is for you to come with us, have Beckett look you over … that's the best proof."

Then Ford looks at him, face softening a bit. "Your food was clean."

It's not, he's told later, because he's the former commanding officer of the man or because of the baby. Ford doesn't apologize, but John doesn't miss how he looks at him, startled and contemplative, murmuring that he'd no idea Sheppard was omega and even less of an idea that he could be carrying a child. _(It wasn't in the plan.)_

His food is clean because Elizabeth trusts him, and somehow Ford imagines he will gladly be the PR boy to deliver the news to her that his entire team and his _mate_ are high on the Wraith enzyme. That it's all good and well and right. That it's not crazy and dangerous and he cannot argument anymore because once John mentions the word _insane_, Ford suddenly grabs his wrist, standing far too close for comfort. He doesn't voice any threats, but John doesn't need to hear them; the look on the man's face is enough to know what damage can be done if they don't comply.

* * *

They take away their guns but give them the liberty to walk around as they please. Of course, nothing is ever that easy. The gate is entirely unguarded, but the control crystals to the DHD are missing so it doesn't even matter. Even Rodney couldn't find a way around that.

John has no idea how fast the enzyme will begin to change his team. Will it be a matter of hours or days? How many doses are needed to make them loose control? And even if they manage to escape somehow, once they've become depended on it, how do they save themselves?

When asked, they can only say that they feel fine – well, except Rodney, but it might be delusions wrought from terror (he keeps mumbling that his knees are tingling).

* * *

"You and McKay mated? Really? When?"

"Never saw it coming, did you," John mutters.

In the other room, Teyla and Ronon are sparring. One of Ford's guys is apparently some kind of scientist or at least clever enough to be one, and he's taken away Rodney to show him the lab. The lab wherein they make themselves go mad, slowly, drop by drop of the enzyme, but no one seems to see it – Ford least of all.

He shouldn't have let Rodney go, but Ford keeps separating them. As if he knows just how dependent they've become on one another.

"Actually, it's not that much of a surprise," Ford admits. "The way you were always at each other's throats … it would've happened sooner or later. You being omega, on the other hand, _that_ surprised me. You hid it well. Though it's obvious _why_. So, did you out yourself when he knocked you up?"

John barely bites back a scowl.

Knowledge gives Ford leverage. Because if Rodney doesn't do as he says and fixes the dart, if the team doesn't keep taking the enzyme – all Ford has to do is raise his hand against John and the baby; Rodney will _never_ risk that, and neither will Ronon or Teyla, so they obey. And as the hours trickle by, making days, they are slowly losing themselves to the enzyme and cannot think of a plan.

Only John still can think.

He wishes he was carrying his sidearm.

* * *

They've been prisoners for four days when the baby first kicks.

It's a tiny, subtle movement. The only reason he distinguishes it is because he's been lying awake for five hours trying and failing to sleep, distinctly aware of each faint sound from the chamber next to this one (Ford has a bunch of fucking Wraith chained up there to a wall) and curve of Rodney's form pressed against his own and his own too-loud breaths sharp against the chilly air of the cavern.

Next to him on the thin mattress, Rodney keeps snoring. The alpha is curled up on his side, an arm braced around his mate and John considers waking him for a moment, to whisper to him that the baby just moved, Rodney, the baby just kicked! – but he stops himself, lips two inches from Rodney's collarbone.

Rodney needs to rest. If they are to escape, he needs to be fresh and bright and it's bad enough that the enzyme has begun taking hold on him; it's a wonder he's been able to fall asleep at all, hyperactive as he is during the days.

Instead, John shifts and presses his left palm against his belly, the other hand entwined with Rodney's and if he closes his eyes briefly he can almost imagine that they're back in their quarters on Atlantis, just the two of them, alone and _safe_ (relatively safe. Everything is relative).

They have to escape. How long is Ford going to keep them here? If the dart cannot be fixed, will he let them go, or erase the evidence? He wouldn't just release them – they know far too much. Ford knows that if he does let them pass through the gate to Atlantis, a special ops team would be on the planet within the following hour, ruining months of hard work. No, Ford wouldn't risk that.

They can't stay here, chained to a planet they don't know the name of.

* * *

Rodney's working on the dart with the frenzy of a starving man presented with a buffet.

This has got to work. It's their only means of escape. Have John fly the dart, beam them up and bring them back to Atlantis. The plan is raw and startling in its simplicity and that's why, Rodney figures, he couldn't come up with it himself. It's the enzyme, blinding him. Making it difficult to keep the thoughts and not have them slipping away like tiny grains of sand.

In a way, just after he's received a new dose – they keep getting larger and closer – as his senses sharpen and his needs grow, it's what he imagines omegas could go through when in heat. Being near John is a mixture of comforting and maddening, his body urging him to _touch_ and_take_ and he struggles every day to not just … reach out and _claim_. But John is clearly uneasy and what if he hurt him, or the child? He can't do that. He can't – _he_ _can't_ –

* * *

- lose control. Break away. But everything threatens to spill over the edge, and on the sixth day, John and he leaves the cave of operations, his hand clawing into John's wrist.

There's a large field where the gate is situated near the edge of the forest where they can be alone, and there Rodney stops himself from holding back, feeling the enzyme wreaking havoc on his body as he grinds against his mate, gasping and grunting, _needing_ to –

In the aftermath, John holds him, whispers _I'm not blaming you,_ _it's going to be okay, we're going to get out of here, we have a plan _and Rodney lays a hand on his omega's swollen abdomen, whispering _I'm sorry I'm such an idiot,_ _we have to get out of here,_ _we have to be okay, _I'll fix it.

* * *

He's glad once he finally gets to sleep, pulse lowered to a more manageable rate, considering his hypothermia and everything, John in his arms – when they're together nothing can touch them (he keeps telling himself, hour after hour); when they're together they're invincible.

Nothing will ever get between them.

* * *

Then as John climbs into the dart Ford turns around and suddenly a dozen stolen Genii weapons are pointed at Rodney's head. The scientist grabs for a gun that isn't there, because none has been given to him yet and his TAC vest is empty of grenades.

"You bastard! You promised we'd all go!"

"Sorry, McKay," Ford grins, but there's nothing friendly about it. "But I'm not a stupid man. I know you would try to escape that way."

How can he expect this plan to go over well? How can he expect to win? How can he expect them to come along without question, without hesitation – how can he expect Rodney to accept that John is going to be there, flying straight into that bloody hive ship?!

"We had a _deal_, Ford," John growls.

"Would you rather I just shoot McKay then, Sheppard?"

There is no choice.

"See, I knew you'd come around. Give them back their weapons. We need to be a team for this to work."

As the men lower their guns and scatter, John looks over their heads and meets Rodney's gaze and hopes that the alpha can see his eyes from this distance, and _understand_.

* * *

Autopilot grabs the dart and guides it into the bay, and John holds his breath as he released his cargo blindly, praying to whatever deities that may exist out there for Teyla and Ronon to be all right.

Then the alarms go off.

He spends the following half hour running down corridors shooting at everything that moves.

No one answers his calls over the radio.

* * *

Unconsciousness grabs his suddenly, something cold spreading along his back and his last thought is a scattered image, small pieces of worry and hope and fear _oh god Rodney (I'm sorry) -_

* * *

"Are you all right?" Teyla's voice reaches him softly from above as his vision blurrily comes to life.

They're in a holding cell. Hive ship. Wraith. Captured. Stunned – he was stunned. Oh god, the baby –

"Maybe you should lie down," the Athosian murmurs as John sharply draws himself up to a sitting position, head pounding. It's the least of his worries.

Ford is pacing and muttering, looking like he's about to yell at him in any moment now, for screwing up, for letting the dart go on autopilot and setting off the alarms. But Ronon is there, the slightest of comforts, keeping the man at bay for the moment. John can't deal with him right now.

This wasn't in the plan.

A couple of Ford's men are there too, those that survived. The makeshift scientist isn't among them, and John doesn't know their names.

"We've got to get out of here."

Only they get no chance to do anything, because then several Wraith arrive to drag him out of the cell, as he stands up when they want the one who flew the ship. If he can stall them, there's a chance his team can escape.

* * *

The Queen regards him with cold eyes. He's cheeky and defiant and if he could just gain control of his body and_ stand up_ –

He really has to stop the habit of facing her like this. This time she probably won't hiss and draw away without feeding on him. Her hand raises and John tries to move but can't, and his breath hitches._ This can't be how it ends._

Then, suddenly, she crumbles to the floor and her hold on him is gone. John flies to his feet. The guards fall, one by one, and the Wraith worshippers scatter, specks of white disappearing into the dark as Ford appears across the room. The man throws him a nine mill, which John catches on reflex.

"Go down that hall-way, fifty meters, then turn left," Ford says, "you find Teyla and Ronon's cell there. And, here," he hands over something. A small Genii storage device. John grasps it uncertainly. "It contains the address to the compound."

To Rodney. To free him. The unspoken is almost like an apology.

Then Ford runs the other way, and despite all the man's done, despite drugging his team and capturing them and running off, despite turning down their pleads before to have him return, John still doesn't want him to just go and get killed. He could come back to Atlantis and find a cure to his addiction, find a home instead of being on the run, could regain their trust and friendship if he could just –

"Ford!"

"_Go_, Sheppard."

"Wait – _Ford_!"

They don't say goodbye.


	11. Calculating Curves No One Can Read: 7

**II.  
Calculating Curves No One Can Read**

**Chapter Seven**

The guards are huge and he takes them down with a fist and his head spins and he grabs the control crystals, repeating the address home aloud just to remember it. Oh, it was so stupid. _Stupid_. Enzyme's not good. Not good. But the guards. And the DHD. And John. He has to get back – get out – get back home – tell them, tell them, about Ford and the guards and John _the idiot_ flying to the hive ship and Ford's idiotic _useless_ plan and the captivity –

Rodney makes it through the event horizon without feeling his feet touch the ground and then he's home and they're all crazy and won't listen and want to tie him down – want him to slow down, slow down,_ slow down_ –

Nothing's making sense and then his pulse reaches the crescendo, and he falls onto the floor five feet from the gate, half-way through John's name.

* * *

Mere seconds before the two hives vaporize each other John activates the gate via the dart's DHD, dropping the cargo before landing. The planet's inhabitants have hidden from the culling, but people are curiously peeking out from the windows of the medieval-looking houses as the sky lightens up. Teyla and Ronon materialize before the gate, waiting for him as he lands the dart and climbs out of the cockpit. (They probably will have to send a team back later, to retrieve or destroy it. Its presence would disturb the locals and could attract unwanted attention.)

"Good plan," Ronon says.

John just nods sharply and hopes that it's not too late to rescue Rodney. Ford had surprised him when handing over the address, but he's willing to take it as a sign that the young man hasn't forgotten how it was to be part of their team and maybe even their friend.

But if the Wraith have found out about the compound through any of Ford's men or the storage device …

"Let's go home."

_Please, Rodney, be all right._

* * *

Atlantis greets them with frenzy.

The Daedalus has arrived, Colonel Caldwell having been asked to join in the search for the missing team, and a squad of marines are gathered in the gate room obviously ready to dial out any moment now; Major Lorne is there with his team, and Elizabeth is overseeing it all from the control room, arms crossed.

The moment they step through the event horizon, weapons are raised for the fractions of a second before they are lowered in disbelief and relief.

John goes straight up to Elizabeth, knuckles going pale as he clings to the storage device given to him. "Rodney –"

"Is here. He returned yesterday," she explains at his baffled look, which quickly turns into relief and then concern, as she goes on – "He was high on the enzyme. Apparently he had taken out the guards holding him captive and made his way back, but I fear he wasn't very coherent. Since we have no more enzyme we couldn't wane him off of it, but he pulled through fine, much thanks to his stubbornness. Not that his ego needs to be fuelled. He woke this morning and told us about Ford."

"Yeah. This contains the address to his secret compound. I'll fill you in later, but the hives have been destroyed. You can ask Teyla and Ronon." He hands her the device. She knows what to do with it. "Where's Rodney now?"

She smiles. "Carson's keeping an eye on him. I think it's all right for you to visit."

* * *

Rodney's devouring the hospital food like it's actually good. Which, in the scientist's opinion, it might actually be. John shakes his head at the sight, but not without fondness.

"Hey."

The fork stills in mid-air. "Sheppard! You're alive!"

"_Obviously_."

Then Rodney frowns suspiciously. "How?"

"You're displeased?"

"No! No. But you didn't come back so you must've been captured above the hive, so how come you aren't, you know, dead?"

"Well," John says, shoving Rodney's legs over a bit so that he can sit on the mattress beside him, ignoring the alpha's mutter of annoyance, "the Queen was rather pissed when another hive showed up, which we took advantage of. While the Wraith were busy arguing, I stole a dart, picked up Teyla and Ronon and busted our way out of there. They destroyed each other, by the way, and the planet was saved from culling."

Rodney exhales, and John lets him clasp his hand. "Okay. That's good. That's good."

"How're you feeling?"

"Never better. Well, my arm's still tingling and Carson says it's just my mind playing tricks, but medicine can't really be trusted so could you make him examine me again? Good. You know, it was rather fascinating, taking that much enzyme. Not that I enjoyed being high or anything, but at the time, when I was rather lucid, I reckoned that I was perfectly fine and everyone else were strange and even _mad_. Now I do understand why Ford did what he did – why he left. He thought we wanted to trap him here and take away this - I'm hesitant to say _amazing_ because it's not, but from his point of view it might've been – this amazing discovery."

John can't come up with a smart comeback to that, so he doesn't try. He's far too familiar with breaking out of cages.

"I didn't _mean_ to take the enzyme. But I had to get past the guards," Rodney goes on, sounding a bit like a nervous puppy afraid of being scolded and kicked out. "It was the only way."

"I know. I'm not angry, Rodney," he grins. "Desperate times, desperate measures. Besides, I'm glad we don't have to send a rescue team out for you. Wish that'd happen more often." Then he stands and stretches, yawning.

It's been a long day.

Carson will probably have Rodney on surveillance for another twelve hours, but tomorrow things will be back to normal, and they can have breakfast in the mess and maybe go to the east pier (not to have a beer, obviously. John honestly misses the beer) and play some chess. Yeah.

Things will be back to normal.

* * *

The Wraith get there first.

By the time they arrived at the compound, days later when Elizabeth finally allows them to go off-world again, there's nothing left. Nothing but corpses and smashed gear and twisted metal, burning slowly. There's no sign of Ford. There is no message waiting.

"You think he's alive?" Rodney asks quietly on the jumper ride back home.

Last John saw of him he was alive, even if the hives went down, so he'll stick with that.

* * *

He needs to clear his head and maybe his heart. So when Teyla offers them both to follow her to the mainland where she is to visit her surrogate grandmother Charin and partake in the Tendol Feast, an ancient Athosian tradition, both John and Rodney follows.

(It takes a while to convince Rodney to part from his lab and his fifteen computers there though, but John knows the right ways to persuade him.)

On the mainland, Atlantis is out of sight, and even if they have to keep their radios on in case of an emergency it feels very far away. But out here it's peaceful, it's calm, and John marvels at the silence even if the hum of Atlantis always brings him comfort.

The Athosians they thrive in their simplicity, though they do admit they could use their own Stargate. Trading is more difficult when the goods have to pass through Atlantis and over the ocean. But relocating isn't an option at the moment, because on the mainland they are safe, now that the Wraith believe Atlantis to be destroyed and the planet uninhabited, and they have their crops and their families here.

* * *

The night is quiet but for the sounds of crickets – or their Pegasus version, anyhow – and John and Rodney curl up together in the tent given to them, which also had taken some convincing to get Rodney into. The alpha's brought home-made sunscreen and anti-mosquito cream and takes a great deal of care in applying it, and John thinks he's just adorable. Naturally, Rodney argues against that. Alphas aren't _adorable_. In response, John only smirks.

It's been too long since they've had time for just each other without any crisis or threatening axes hanging over their heads.

* * *

The Athosian feast involves singing and fires and wine, and the earthlings are welcomed with open arms. Several recognizable faces are present that John hasn't seen for weeks. Jinto rushes up to him asking for stories, and won't budge even if Rodney animatedly argues that they're here for time alone, not to babysit, but John indulges him. It reminds him of times when they weren't aware just how great a foe the Wraith were, when they were more naïve of the dangers lurking in the Pegasus galaxy.

Teyla is there, of course, with old Charin, and she also introduces a man, Kanaan, that they've never met before. Rodney may be obvious but John doesn't miss how Teyla looks at the man with adoration and love.

They sit by the edge of the main campfire, blazing in the night, the people forming a circle around it and chorusing in Ancient, the words passed on for generations. It's enough, and John feels content leaning against Rodney's shoulder, an arm resting around him, a hand on his belly feeling the baby kick.

Overhead, the sky is slowly turning.

Tomorrow they'll have to return to Atlantis and face the world again and feel all thorns. But for now, they're together and together they can overcome supernovas.

* * *

**Together** /təˈɡeðə(r)/  
[adverb]  
_two and two; well-organized; simultaneous action;  
never alone_


	12. Longing For the Stars to End: 1

_Author's notes: This is the third story in The John/Rodney Arc. Beware if you haven't read the warnings in the first chapter: there's alpha/beta/omega therefore slash and mpreg, and if none of this appeals to you please press the back button now._

_Story [III] summary: While the villagers meditate, John dreams of Ferris Wheels and flying cities and of Rodney overturning planets as he races to find him._

* * *

**Building Neutron Stars  
****The John/Rodney Arc:**

**III.**  
**Longing For the Stars to End**

* * *

**Longing** /ˈlɒŋɪŋ/  
[noun]  
_unfulfilled desire; wishing for someone or something_  
_out of reach_  
_a strong feeling for wanting something more_

* * *

**Chapter One**

P3X-GH4 is at first glance quite uninteresting. There are no people on it, as far as they can detect, and the only structures they can find are ruins, withered into useless chunks of stone since long ago. The Stargate is in orbit around the planet, therefore neither Teyla nor Ronon have visited it before. The energy readings are curious though and the reason they've given a go is because Rodney reckons there could be a ZPM down there.

It's meant to be one of his final missions – at least if Elizabeth and the others will have their way (John still argues with them about it; he hasn't lost his ability to fire a P90 yet). But he's nineteen weeks along now, and he's starting to feel the strain, his calves aching when he's been walking for too long and running is fine as long as the terrain is flat which is basically only in Atlantis (Rodney thinks he's crazy, still going on morning jogs with Ronon every day, but Carson assures him it's fine), plus it's awkward to get cravings at the most inopportune of moments.

Besides, if it's going to be such a big deal, everybody fussing every time he steps through the gate, it might just be worth it to step down now. It'll be boring as hell but, well, maybe Teyla is right about spending time to indulge himself and connect with the baby, as she put it. But it's difficult to just let go. He's the team leader. This is what they do. To imagine the next four months all without going off-world is weird and he might start clawing at the walls at the very thought. He's never been good at sitting behind desks.

* * *

They land fifty yards south of the place where the energy signature is coming from. John hopes there aren't any deadly traps or some Ancient ambush lying in wait for them, but the chances of that are pretty slim. One can never just find a ZPM, pick it up and walk away.

"You could, you know, wait in the jumper," Rodney edges once they've landed. John only looks at him and the scientist huffs something about stubbornness and lets him come along.

"Okay, fine, but if there are Wraith out there –"

"We didn't pick up anything on the scanners."

"-_ if_ there's an enemy presence or if something dangerous shows up, you should fall back to the jumper."

"Unless I shoot it first."

"Oh, come on, that's such typical military thinking. Of course you have to resort to that. Nothing better than to blow things up. Conan here has influenced you far too much. Oh my god, you're going to corrupt that baby before it's even _born_. However am I supposed to get it into a decent university with you as its birth-parent?"

John flashes a grin. "Oh, don't worry, Rodney," he drawls, "I'm sure you'll come up with something."

* * *

It's meant to be a simple mission. Jump down onto the planet, localize the power source, deem if it's stable and safe and then decide whether to send a scientist team later to examine it properly. They don't run into any locals or any Wraith. Everything seems fine - which should have been the first clue, because things are rarely this easy.

The energy they're tracking is coming from within a large valley but they realize this once they've already landed in the thick underbrush. So they decide to walk instead of taking the jumper into flight again. On foot they have more time to examine the planet more closely. There's little wildlife to be seen, but far-off birds are singing.

The opening leading through the ridge looks perfectly harmless, and Rodney's talking excitedly about the possibly of locating a ZPM and doesn't look at his datapad properly the moment they find the door-like valve and John, leading them onwards, steps through.

"Hang on," Rodney starts, reading something, but it's too late.

John's hands tingle and he can't back out and his feet are sucked in, and behind him he feels Ronon move forward to catch him, hold him back,strong hands grasping his TAC vest just as Rodney cries out a warning – something is wrong, something is very wrong but John is too busy struggling to think.

Then the veil swallows him up completely and Rodney's shout is cut off in mid-word.

* * *

He stumbles into a pitch-black cave, managing to catch himself against a wall before falling.

That was ... weird.

He turns around, but instead of the bright forest beyond the barrier or whatever it was that he just walked through, there's an empty dark space. No sign of Rodney, Teyla or Ronon. No sign of _anything._

He reaches out a hand but quickly draws back – it's like touching a shield or energy field, tendrils of pain rushing up his arm. Trying to walk through it would probably only hurt as hell. Not wanting to risk harming the baby if that's true, he picks up a stone and throws it at the dark wall.

The barrier flickers, a molten blue for a second, rippling like water as it catches the stone and hurls it back at his feet.

"Damn it."

He picks up his radio. "Rodney, do you copy? Teyla, Ronon, please come in." He waits for a moment, but gains nothing in return. "This is Sheppard, please respond. Teyla, Ronon, come in …"

* * *

"_John_!"

Ronon launches forward, but right before the Satedan's hand touches the barrier Rodney cries out, stopping him. "No! Wait!"

"We're not leaving Sheppard in there!" Ronon growls furiously. "He fucking disappeared, McKay!"

"We're not sure what the barrier is or what it does. Obviously the portal reacts differently to organic matter than it does to animate objects. Teyla, show me that video again. I've got a theory, but …"

_Don't let it be true. Don't let it be. Let me be wrong._

The Athosian hands him the camera and this time, he looks at it closely, taking in the data on the tiny screen and when he sees the numbers in the corner he freezes up, face going pale.

No. No.

"What is it?" Teyla asks, a frown marring her fair face. "Rodney?"

The camera isn't entirely steady in his hands. Oh god, they've been so fucking stupid, he's been so blind, not warning John in time not to step through that damn barrier because it's not just some cloak, it's –

"We didn't film for more than three seconds. But – look, look, Teyla. Look at those numbers there! Does that say zero minutes three seconds, huh?"

00:11:43.

The wheels inside Rodney's head start spinning.

* * *

"I'm on some kind of cave," he goes on. "Inside the ridge, I guess. And I can't get out of it – it's shielded. I've taken a good look around the area; there isn't much to see, just a forest outside the cave and I've not ventured further yet in the –" he glances at the watch on his arm "- two and a half hours I've been here. So I'm quite ready to be rescued now."

Silence.

"Look, if you can hear me, please respond."

Darkness.

"This is Sheppard, please respond."

Not even static.

"Rodney, Teyla, Ronon, if you can hear me, _please respond_."

* * *

"Since I've got no volleyball to talk to, I'm settling for my radio and maybe you could catch my signal through the barrier even if the chances are slim. It's probably magnetically shielded or something. So, I'm in a cave. It's empty and dark, but dry and quite warm. Cozy. I should be okay. Nobody's shooting at me, which is good."

He settles on a perched rock.

"Wonder how cold the nights get at this place."

* * *

He finds some dry branches half-buried in the sandy ground, and it doesn't take long to get a fire going. It's tiny and he sits staring at the flames, waiting, waiting, as night falls, but there's no sign of activity within the cave or in the opening of the barrier. Eventually he lies down to sleep, but he can't find it.

* * *

"I'm getting a bit peachy here, Rodney, so I wouldn't mind if you hurried it up. Now would be a good time for you to send me some food and not the rock you threw inside half an hour ago. Junior here is kicking my kidney, agreeing with me, just so you know. You keep missing all these moments with the baby and if you keep this up -"

He pauses. Wonders if anyone can hear. If Rodney can hear. If they could hear him, they would have replied.

Just a word would've been enough.

And he feels a bit guilty because Rodney never got proper readings, he never knew what the barrier was and it's his own fucking fault for getting here. He should've told them to turn around and send a science team back later to investigate it properly before he or anyone stepped through. He should've stayed with the jumper, even if it would've been out of character and Ronon would've asked if something was up, because if he'd stayed behind he wouldn't be in this mess.

"Just hurry it up, Rodney. We don't leave our people behind."

* * *

He rests for three hours – a fitful sleep, his back protesting as he tried finding a comfortable position on the stone - before he stands again and throws another pebble at the barrier. Just like before, it bounces back.

_Wonderful._

He can stick with sarcasm. Using sarcasm and talking into his radio he might keep his head up for another day without going mad, without losing it, while he waits for Rodney to come up with something. Because Rodney will. He won't just leave him here to rot.

"It's been approximately forty hours now since my arrival and tomorrow I'll have to search for fresh water," he reports. "Given there's nothing but sand in here, I have to leave the cave, which means if you somehow manage to get in here, you shouldn't need to panic. That is, if you can pick up my radio signal and hears me saying this, in which case I also want to add that, furthermore, Rodney, you're an idiot. Now, I'm turning off my radio for another six hours to preserve the batteries."

* * *

"A time dilation field? I don't understand –" Teyla says but Rodney cuts her off before she can say more, and he can't give them a sufficient explanation because there's no time.

They have no_ time._

This is bad. Very, very bad.

* * *

It hurts like hell but he punches the barrier anyway.

Shooting at it is a bad idea though, he nearly takes his own foot off and he yells for a bit at himself but no one is here to hear so it doesn't matter in the end. But if a bullet can't pierce it and living matter can't get through from this side –

"This is damn right problematic, Rodney!"

* * *

The whole cave trembles.

"Oh thank god!"

The two bags slung through the portal are meagre, but it's _something_, even if it took them fucking long enough. He scrambles through their contents until he finds a stack of MREs by the bottom and he gulps down two along with some of the water also sent through. Nothing's ever tasted so good.

"You could've left a note!"

No one answers.

"Well, it figures. You're probably too busy to write notes, Rodney," he mutters darkly into the radio.

* * *

"I fucking miss having a razor."

He scratches his chin. He's not had a beard for years, so the stubble feels odd and uncomfortable. That and the fact he'd really like a shower. Of course, he's been through worse, a bit of sweat never hurts anybody. He's not being shot at or hunted by Wraith or nearly getting eaten by wild alien creatures. In fact, there's no direct danger of the violent kind; but he's been in here for, what, two and a half days now, and he's run out of the meagre supply of MREs and an hour ago he drank the last of his water supply.  
He can't stay here. Were he not pregnant, he could've lingered a bit more. Hung onto the thread of hope that Rodney would come now, any minute now, breach the barrier and get him out – but nothing happens, and his body cannot sustain both himself and the baby forever on badly flavoured nutrition bars and foolish beliefs.

* * *

"Damn it, McKay, step it up. How hard can it seriously be for you to solve this equation? Honestly. I've only given you sixty-four hours here; it's more than enough time to get to Earth and back a dozen times over. This is the sort of thing you fix in ten fucking minutes."

* * *

"I've explored the cave but there's nothing here to live on and I've run out of firewood. Perhaps there's something outside the immediate area that can help me. Or at least something I could eat. Not that I didn't appreciate the three canteens of water and the whole handful of power-bars …"

Talking is a waste of energy. He's been conserving it by sitting here, just sitting and waiting for many hours after getting a good look around the area to conclude that he cannot stay. But Rodney and the others have got to come soon. Find him.

"I've got to get moving, but I'll be back as soon as I can. Sheppard out."

He leaves an arrow built of pebbles for them to find, pointing in the direction of the entrance to the cave, in case they one day get through and sees it.

Had he had a pen and paper available or at least enough rocks to build a more detailed message, he'd have written something along the lines of RODNEY YOU MORON HURRY THE FUCK UP, but he leaves the arrow as it is before exiting the cave, glancing back at the portal a final time, but there's no sign of movement.


	13. Longing For the Stars to End: 2

**III.**  
**Longing For the Stars to End**

**Chapter Two**

There's a path, leading through the woods and crossing a wide open field, over a hill and there, in the valley, smoke is rising from the chimneys.

Civilization. Thank god. Even if it's a medieval looking village, there are people, and if nothing else he could at least get some water and food before he tries finding some other way out of here. How come they hadn't detected them before? The jumper's sensors hadn't picked up any lifesigns. Perhaps the barrier …

If one can only get in but not out, that explains some things.

The people are clad in the colours of the earth, and there's an air of peaceful simplicity over the whole village. As he approaches, a man (beta, his scent unimaginative) carrying the tools of a farmer goes up to meet him.

"Hail, stranger! Welcome to the Sanctuary."

"Thanks," except he isn't that thankful of being here but he's tactful enough not to say that directly; it won't do to insult and anger the locals first thing. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard."

"Arvid is my name. You must have come through the barrier." The man sounds curious and excited. "No newcomers have appeared for tens of generations."

"Uh, yeah. The thing is, I'm not exactly meant to be here … I've been trying to leave for a while."

The man frowns. "Did you not heed the warnings before entering the barrier? One cannot leave."

Crap. That can't just be true. It can't. He refuses to believe it. He'll get out of here, somehow. Rodney will find a way, break down the barrier from the other side and John just needs to have patience – just needs to wait –

The man's gaze travels downward and John stiffens a little, but there is no ill will in the man's expression, merely thoughtfulness and curiousity. "Have you come alone, John Sheppard?" He doesn't ask anything about a mate, but John's pretty sure the man would have if he weren't so polite, if he didn't think such a question might be upsetting.

No omega carrying a child would normally be wandering around alone.

"Yes. But it was a mistake," John says. "Listen, is there no way to get back? Some other way out of the valley? I've already tried to pass through the barrier, but it stopped me, like it's shielded."

Arvid, as the man is called, looks troubled for a moment. "If that is true, then I am sorry. But there is no way out of the Sanctuary. But come, you must be in need of food and rest. I shall take you to my home."

And what else can he do? If he can't go this way or that, it doesn't matter if he waits for a few hours, and he's hungry and tired and food sounds good. Sleeps sounds nice. He hasn't been able to rest properly for two nights.

* * *

He follows the man into the village, where he's introduced to the community's inquisitive glances and he smiles at them all, nodding hi, but is glad when Arvid lets him sit down by the table inside a small wooden building that obviously is the man's home, away from everybody's eyes. Arvid has a sister there, Teer, who greets him with a smile, but no other family. No wife or husband or child.

Food is quickly brought out. After nearly three days on water and MREs, the simple meal is heavenbrought, but he misses having Rodney there to complain about the lack of jell-o.

They're all very friendly, these folks, but they're all aliens and strangers and after having spent hour after hour talking with no one but his radio, he finds it a bit difficult to fall into conversation at first. Especially since he has nothing to relate to with these people.

When he speaks of coming through the Stargate, they don't understand. Eventually, Teer mentions something about an old legend of rings built eons ago, and

John fills in, "Yeah, the ancestral rings. We use them to travel between worlds."

"Remarkable!" Arvid says. "You travelled to our world through one of the rings?"

"Yes. Yours is in orbit around the planet so we used a small ship," he says between bites – man, he's_ hungry_ – but realizes they comprehended less than a third of that sentence, and adds, "Your world is inaccessible by ground, so we used a flying craft to get here. Then we discovered the barrier, and I stepped through by mistake – I couldn't back out if it."

"We? So more of your people came to our … planet?" Teer asks, obviously unfamiliar with the concept. If this place has been isolated for generations then that might not be that odd, but John has difficulties grasping _that_ concept.

"Yes, my team. Teyla, Ronon and Rodney McKay. We're explorers."

"Ah, your life-mate."

He stares at her in surprise.

"Many of the people in the Cloister have gained various abilities in our strife to ascend. I have long had foreseeing dreams. I saw your coming here and many of the things that it shall entail."

He abandons the food in favour of her words, seeking some crystalline definition of hope, of possibility. "Did it entail me getting out of here?"  
The woman looks away then, and a knot ties in John's throat.

* * *

Had he had anything with him worth to pack, he would have done so. Instead, he walks back to the edge of the barrier empty-handed, not even bothering to put on his TAC vest because it's only uncomfortable against the round of his belly. He leaves his equipment in Arvid's house, wherein he's been welcomed to stay – indefinitely, if he so wishes, but he doesn't.

On the way out of the village one of the people working in the fields, a woman in her thirties, calls out, asking where he's going.

"I have to go back."

"Back?" The woman blinks in surprise. As if not entirely comprehending. "That is not possible. Once you have crossed the threshold, there is no return. You must stay to reach ascension."

John doesn't want to believe her (_cannot_ believe her or anyone and their words of no return) and continues anyway.

* * *

Four hours later he returns to the Cloister, sunset having laid its purple-golden shadow over the valley, after having stood throwing rocks at the shielded opening only to have them bouncing back. He's yelled at the barrier demanding it to open and he's reached out like he does when operating the chair or other Ancient tech, but there's no response to his gene or his pleads.

When he returns, people have retreated indoors, candles flickering in the glassless windows. There are no voices from far-off, no families gathered around a fireplace laughing, because everyone is meditating in silence.

He doesn't have the heart to join them. Instead, John creeps into the bed given to him, and he's slept on forest floors and in deserts and should have no trouble falling asleep on a perfectly good mattress, but when he closes his eyes he only has nightmares.

* * *

Ascension. John has read about it, in reports and in the database, and thinks of the ascended priestess they encountered before regaining contact with Earth, and that beast that tried to eat their power generators during their first week in Pegasus. He's never been keen on the prospect.

Every villager looks wistful and distant as they speak of it, their goal, their dream; to live only to reach a state of pure energy, nothingness, losing their bodies and risking their individuality.

When he says he needs to get out, they only look at him strangely and shake their heads, saying _There is no way out. Once you have crossed the threshold, you must stay to reach ascension._

John doesn't want to fucking ascend. He just wants Rodney and Atlantis and jumpers soaring through the sky to visit stars and have his baby with Rodney beside him, hand clasped within his own - and_ no one gets it._ It's like they have forgotten what it is to long for anything but a higher state of being.

Even the few mated couples he's seen – many are celibate, dedicating their life to prayer – are distant and aloof, and they even circulate the children so that everyone and no one takes care of them. To raise their own would only distract them from their true goal, they would lose their focus, they claim.

John is too emotionally tired after screaming at the barrier for hours to engage in a debate with them, even if he doesn't really agree with what they say or do. He's a stranger and these people have lived like this for generations, trapped and bound. And he will get out of here, soon, he will, and leave all of this behind. Soon. Rodney will figure something out.

* * *

It's been twelve days now.

How many more will he have to wait?

* * *

As often as he can he leaves the village, ignoring all questions, to go back to the opening in the ridge. He goes alone. If someone had ever asked to accompany him he might've said yes, but the people are too scared to leave the village and they only plead for him to stay, to linger, to not do anything but _wait._

Meditate, they say. Accept, they say. Forget, they say. Forget Atlantis and his mate and his team and his family and his past and_ everything_. Let go. Ascend. They'll help him, they say, if he just lets them.

John isn't sure if he can let them. He can't let go of hope in order to let them help him. They just don't _understand._

* * *

The fifth time he goes to the cave, he finds a heap of supplies waiting for him – enough to last a person a month, perhaps. There's food and water and equipment for survival, hastily thrown together, and it sparks hope inside of him that we're here, we're coming, we're thinking about you even if it's taking them all so long.

Atop one of the bags there's a note pinned in place. Not a datapad, because it might've flickered out and died before John could see what it says and he's glad for Rodney's insight, but the message is also painfully short and useless in its lack of information, of reference. Nevertheless, John clings to the words.

_We're working on it. Hold on._

* * *

They're all meditating again. John's back aches as he sits there, staring blankly at the walls.

Why is no one coming? What's taking them so long?

Rodney wouldn't abandon him. They don't leave people behind.

Why is no one coming? How many hours are there left?

_Come on, Rodney, I'm waiting for you._

* * *

He's given them time.

Time.

When he realizes the answer to the question Why, it leaves him numb with the knowledge that maybe the ratio of the difference, or dilation or whatever the correct term is, may be a hundred to one or_ more_ – why else would it take them a week to send those supplies? And with such a short, vague note, scribbled down in five seconds like there was no time to be more elaborate?

And there's a chance then that he could be stuck here for months and _years_ without a way out. When Rodney finally cracks the code and finds a way both in and out the barrier, John can have reached twice his age and have had the baby since long ago and –

But he's got to hope. Without hope he has nothing. They don't leave people behind.

Rodney won't leave him behind.

* * *

It was so stupid. Coming on the mission. It was meant to be his last, he'd already discussed it with Rodney and they had agreed that after that he'd take a break, request a leave, and they could spend time in the lab and in the city, just the two of them. He should've stayed behind. Let Lorne take care of it. Lorne is a good man, a competent soldier and leader and John curses again and again that he had to let curiousity overtake him and stepped through the barrier before they had examined it closely.

He should have stayed behind. Should have stopped. Should have hesitated.

Should have. Should have. Should have.

* * *

It rains sometimes, but within the Sanctuary there are no thunderstorms and there is no sharp hail. The orchards bloom and the crops thrive. In the woods and out on the fields there's the sound of crickets and birdsong, but he never spots any wildlife other than a few harmless rabbits. Out there, there are no enemies, no predators, only the sun and the clouds, and he cannot touch the sky from this far down.

The silence at night is eerie.

He misses the hum of Atlantis.

* * *

He tries being calm and sit with the villagers and mediate. He joins them as they eat and share stories and in the process learns a little more about them as he tries to make them understand. All of them are born in here, in safety, yet they are so ridiculously scared of everything. When he tells them about the Wraith and fighting and discovering the galaxy, they all look terrified and stare at him as if he and his people were mad.

"But what of ascension?" Teer asks, genuinely confounded and taken aback and, dare he say it, concerned. "Does this war you speak of not distract you? This place is peaceful; we would gladly welcome more who wish to escape from the dangers of life."

"We don't care too much about ascension," John responds. "I mean, if it takes whole lives to reach that, then what's the point? I prefer living, here and now, flesh and blood, not becoming some shapeless energy. It's much more important to fight the Wraith and find a way to get rid of them, so that the whole galaxy can be safe and at peace, not just a fraction of it."

"Oh." Her eyes flicker.

Oh, wonderful, now he's insulted them too.

Shooting back from the table, he stands and excuses himself.

* * *

He doesn't belong.

* * *

"John."

He looks up as someone enters the cave. It's Teer, and in the gloom he cannot quite read her face.

"You've been missing for several hours. We were worried about you. It's dangerous to leave the village."

"Here?" He sighs, and turns around to keep staring at the veil. If Rodney could just send another message. A single word. A picture. Anything. (A jumper in the sky. A supernova.) "Nothing's dangerous here."

_Anything._

"You wait for you people," Teer says softly. Saddened. John doesn't need her or anyone else's pity and he can't bear to look at her. In a way, anger would be better, or fear, not this honest concern. "But there is no one coming, John."

"So you've said, yeah, yeah. But we don't leave our people behind."

"Your mate is amongst those who would try and come for you. The father." It is more of a statement than a question. Has she dreamt that too, has she had visions of Rodney searching between gates?

"Yeah," he says, voice growing rougher at the thought of Rodney, of the possibility of never seeing him again, at the risk of having lost him forever and never even having said goodbye – "Yeah, he is. And he will come," he says again, trying to push away the image because he doesn't want to have a fucking breakdown right now in front of her and cry; he hasn't cried for years and she is a stranger.

"If you try to meditate with us again, you may find peace."

He could've hit something. Shot something. He's already tried venting his anger and frustration and grief by going into the woods where no villagers are, shooting without targets, but it was just a waste of bullets. His gun and TAC vest and every other piece of equipment are now stored away in the hut he's sharing with Arvid's family, hidden under the bed, useless shadows of a former life.

(When he'd shown the people his weapons, they had been terrified. They hadn't seemed to be able to grasp the fact that he's a soldier.)

He's still carrying a radio on him, though. In case. If.

"I've already tried and thank you, but no. I'm not giving up hope and accepting that I'm stuck here!"

"I am not asking you to give up hope, John," Teer says gently. "But we fear for you, that you're starting to wither away before our very eyes."

He may be – slowly melting, the last snow claimed by the thaw, and he's running out of ice to defend himself. She extends a hand, an offering. Eventually, he stands up, and silently follows her back to the village.

* * *

_We're working on it. Hold on._


End file.
